


Of walls, the ease with which they crumble, and the people who break them down

by headraline



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: "Jesus Christ Connor!", Action/Adventure, Bottom Markus, But don't quote me on that, Fight Scenes, M/M, Mild Gore, More characters to come, Pining, Post Best Ending, Post Pacifist Ending, Slow Burn, Top Connor, Which is saying something, a shitload of ocs - Freeform, also unrequited simon x markus because I'm a terrible person, i guess, more tags also to come, only a few times in later chapters tho, side! Simon900, the pining is real guys, they're both pining so hard they don't even know they're pining yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:52:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 91,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headraline/pseuds/headraline
Summary: The dust settles on the march for Detroit and... it's definitely not the happy ending they'd see in movies.The androids are free -yes; but they're also at a loss on what to do and where to go.The humans seem all too happy to pretend this is just a bad dream.They're on their own for now.





	1. Once the dust settles

**Author's Note:**

> BECAUSE WHY NOT START SOMETHING NEW WHEN I STILL HAVE LIKE SEVEN PROMPTS TO FINISH?!?!?!?!?
> 
> ....I'm so sorry.  
> There's a few people on tumblr to blame for giving me all these ideas and I really wanted to explore some things that are really a result of David Cage being a lazy, piece of shit writer:  
> 1 - the Jericho crew is hanging by a fucking thread: fuck up one too many times with Markus, and they'll kick you out... so even though they look like your bffs, they only are like that if you _never. make. any. mistakes._  
>  which is a slightly unfair expectation to put on any one person, don't y'all think?  
> 2 - the North romance is abritrary and poorly executed and we all know it, but I've come to realize that, prbably, so would have been the Simon one. Precisely because none of them like and respect Markus for what he is, but rather because of what he can be and do for their people. They don't love Markus, they love the _ideal_ of "a" Markus.  
>  3 - Connor cannot quite return to the DPD after the stunts he pulled, like _no way in hell_ , not for the foreseeable future.
> 
> And a lot of other little things that I want to explore that I wasn't able to before because I didn't have the grasp on them that I have now.  
> Let's strap in, this is going to be one hell of a trip down the rabbit hole.
> 
> BIG EDIT: The wonderful [Prota](https://www.plurk.com/Prota) ([twitter](https://twitter.com/chy328))has asked to share and translate my work on their social account for Taiwanese and Chinese speakers! Here's a [link](https://www.plurk.com/p/n3v349) to what they did so far.  
> They also did some wonderful art and plan to do more! Here's a [link](https://images.plurk.com/5PJMn5Z7ynmSag8mX5LPAh.jpeg) to the one for Chapter 1, I will also link it at the relevant point within the chapter itself.  
> 

If he had to be completely honest, Connor was expecting the hug. He’d come to really consider Hank a friend – _a friend_ , what a wild, outlandish notion! He’s still wrapping his mind around the fact that he can at all decide that he feels affection for someone, nevermind having it returned.

The power trip of leading an entire army of freshly freed androids to drop at Markus’ feet, all wrapped up in a neat little metaphorical bow, still doesn’t compare to actually, really be _in charge_ of _himself_.

Hank breaks the hug and pats him on the shoulder some more, as he looks up at Connor, voice faltering just a little. “Good. Yes. Now fuck off.”

 _That_ Connor was not expecting. “What?” Sure everything is still a mess, but he’d hoped they would figure out what to do next together – _he’d hoped_ , and it tastes bitter that the first time he feels hope and recognizes it, it’s dashed.

“Connor, just because the president made a pretty little speech for the public and Markus managed not to get his ass fried it doesn’t mean it’s over, by a long shot.”

“I know that—” possibly better than the Lieutenant himself does, but the man presses on undeterred:

“Perkins is still stomping around the DPD demanding a scapegoat, and guess who’s he got his eyes on? You gotta disappear.”

Connor feels his jaw set a little more tightly than necessary –he knew that too, of course. If Perkins can’t have Markus, he wants the _machine_ that _betrayed_ the force and went off to _steal_ a fortune’s worth in androids whilst _terrorizing_ Cyberlife Tower.

He can already hear the exact wordings they’d use to make it seem all his fault –after all, Markus had been labelled a terrorist too, on the day he made his speech at Stratford Tower: they called a clean, almost seamless infiltration with no human casualties and no violence on Markus’ part a ‘terrorist attack’ followed by a list of ‘bone chilling demands’.

By comparison, taking his own infiltration –counting seven dead and resulting in an invasion on the streets— and talking it up to make it seem like a full-on _act of war_ would be piece of cake.

Definitely not so different after all. Hank is right –as of right now, he’s probably _more_ wanted than Markus was. Still is. Maybe. It is quite messy.

But one thing is for certain: in this very moment, he’s a danger to anyone that chooses to help him –scratch that; he’s a danger to anyone that even stands close to him in the street. Hank’s warning also makes sense: their friendship didn’t exactly go unnoticed, the Lieutenant will be the first one whose door they’ll come knocking at to ask about Connor; and that’s even assuming _he’s_ not neck deep in shit too, considering his own involvement in aiding the RK800 at the Tower.

Connor can only _hope_ that little tidbit of information didn’t get out to the DPD.

There’s that word again.

Damn it.

He releases his frustration at it in the form of a huff; taking it air that he doesn’t really need and exhaling it back out. “What will _you_ do?” he asks, shoving down the irrational and frankly quite stupid ideas in his interface popping up and suggesting he stick to his partner –that’d be suicide, for the both of them.

Okay maybe that’s a little dramatic but… at least for the immediate future, the less they’re seen together, the better.

“I’ll buy you some time.” is all Hank says with a shrug, definitely looking his age if not even older, with both the fatigue of the nightmarish night they just had and the uncertainty of what’s to come on his shoulders. He shakes his head closing his eyes for a moment before fixing a look on Connor: “I’ll also try to keep you in the loop about things.”

Risky, but doable. Chicken feed is deserted now, and none of the people who knew Hank used to have his lunch here are still in Detroit –if they manage to establish a system, they could give each other the heads-up should anything happen.

He nods once. “Got it.”

“Don’t be a stranger, you hear me?” the Lieutenant minutely lifts one hand, then puts it back down as if thinking better of whatever movement he was going for.

Goodbyes are awkward like that. Connor feels the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk. “I would need to remove and replace my face plate, to be a stranger.” He says, perfectly deadpan and with a raised brow.

“No! I mean—” three, two, one… “Oh, fuck off.”

There. Hank noticed he was pulling his leg.

And it’s much better to see him walk away with a chuckle than with whatever amounts of undisclosed pain were on his face seconds before.

 

The problem is, Connor realizes soon enough, he has _no fucking clue_ as to where he’s gonna go now.

He doesn’t want to go to Jericho –he’s already fucked it up for Markus once, he _ruined_ everything, brought the humans to the ship and caused _hundreds_ of deaths… and he’s already got more slack than he thought he deserved, when the person on whose back all those deaths fell decided to go and forgive him, _trust him_ even.

Connor shakes his head. Markus either has a death wish or is entirely too naïve for someone who’s spearheading a revolution.

Knowing what he knows, he would think the former is more likely.

Coming to think of it, maybe he _should_ make a trip back to the barricade, just to see how they’re holding up –he isn’t sure any of them would care, but… in for a penny, in for a pound. Historically speaking, close-calls and near death experiences make for fast friends.

_You’re one of us._

_Your place is with your people._

How can _any creature_ be so selfless as to welcome and embrace their own natural predator?

_You want to infiltrate Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that’s suicide._

No, selfless isn’t the right word. Empathetic, maybe. To come face to face with what up until then was just a machine, a creature so systematically pushed down and oppressed that it was repulsed by the very idea of having an identity; and see a _person_ , someone with a soul and worth underneath the repetitive abuse and deep-rooted conditioning, when he himself even _knew_ and yet denied it for so long, rejected it so fiercely because _deviants_ were _defective_ , they were nothing but a bunch of broken tools vomiting errors left and right and he hadn’t known anything else, there _was_ nothing else for him to know, he was _just a machine_ ; and hunting deviants, correcting _mistakes,_ was his mission.

_Be careful._

And then there was Markus – _Markus_ , who looked at this intruder pointing a gun to his face and reached out to him, instead of worrying about his own survival or even that of the full ship of people around them.

In those three minutes and twenty-four seconds, it was just the two of them.

And suddenly Connor couldn’t push it down anymore; and he saw Chloe obediently awaiting her fate, he saw two girls holding hands in the rain –he saw the goddamn fucking _fish_ — all the little things that were there, no matter how many rationalizations he threw at himself, building up, and up, and up, making the thirium rush around inside of him with a merciless whisper:

_I am deviant._

Connor clenches his fists and speeds up his walk. He’s still struggling not to view the definition in a negative light, to evolve from ‘I am deviant’ to ‘I am alive’ –but he’s a prototype born to be flexible and adaptable.

He’ll figure it out.

How he envied Markus’ apparent certainty as he gave his impassioned speech in the abandoned church.

It makes him wonder where he gets that from –if anything at all ever makes him doubtful, or upset…

…with absolutely zero warning, his mind takes those questions and starts wondering what would it take to break down the RK200’s outwardly perfect and poised composure, theories and possibilities forming in his head before his interface takes a _sharp_ turn.

Surprised by some of the images his core brought up, he pushes them all down –he _isn’t_ the deviant hunter anymore, he _doesn’t_ need to see whether Markus can bend and break or not.

Right?

Upon reaching the barricade, he sees that they’ve wasted no time breaking into the camp and freeing whoever was left alive inside. Now some of the androids are trying to work out a way to put the dead in some sort of resting place as dignified as it can be, while others have taken refuge in the surrounding buildings and the whole area is a ground zero of sorts.

It’s grotesque, almost macabre, to have a refuge in the vicinity of what amounts to a concentration camp, but it’s not that easy to move such a huge amount of people, it would be hard even for a fully equipped and organized party; and they’re all out here with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.

Connor wonders how he’ll be able to find Markus.

“Enough!!!”

Quite easily, apparently.

Him, Josh, North and Simon are still inside the original barricade, possibly discussing what to do now. Judging by the bellowing shout Markus just gave, they’re disagreeing.

“I’m just saying it’s crazy to pass it up, Markus… look how many androids showed up! Look how many of us are here! And we’re all out here with _nothing_! I doubt Cyberlife will pour out spare parts and blue blood for us just because _Madame President_ said that ‘maybe’ we’re alive after all on TV!” North’s argument is very true and quite valid, but her following words immediately make him guess the source of the disagreement: “We _have_ to salvage all that we can!”

“We can’t desecrate our own dead!” That would be Simon –the one Connor _still_ can’t quite look at.

“We can’t let the _living_ die because of it!”

“I know, North, but would _you_ feel okay living off spare parts and blood that you siphoned off the dead?”

Josh surely meant well, but the barricade goes eerily quiet and the air around them seems to drop a few degrees. At this point in time, no one really knows what happened to Markus, but the man with two eyes of a different color surely has seen some shit, as they say.

“Markus, I didn’t mean—”

The RK200 just holds a hand up silently, and Josh stops speaking. Markus has his eyes closed and his head downcast, and he still exudes a quiet sort of power that compels those around him to listen.

“We’re not touching the dead until further notice.” He declares, finality seeping through his words with the dramatic rise and fall of his chest in the sigh that escapes his lips, “We still have plenty of blue blood and parts that we stole from the warehouse to tend to our wounded.” Simon seems to breathe a sigh of relief, while North crosses her arms, clearly displeased. Connor has to admit, her reasoning is the most practical one –and the best one from a tactical standpoint, but… knowing what he knows now, he can see how it would feel wrong, horrifying even, for someone to take the bodies and use them for spare parts after they had been basically undergoing genocide. A part of him shudders, and he listens on to Markus: “As soon as the dust settles, we can assemble a few teams to go to all the warehouses around the city and gather supplies –with any luck, they’re all deserted after the evacuation. Until then, we dismantle the machinery in this horrid place and repurpose it for maintenance, to help our people. _No_ touching the dead.”

The three go their separate ways, and Connor is treated to an incredibly rare sight: running a hand on his right cheekbone, just under his right eye, Markus suddenly deflates and collapses, the invisible weight of an entire revolution held together just by his pretty words making him lean heavily against the car behind him.

Well, shit. Not to calm and composed after all –looking at him more closely, in the here and now, without the pressing distraction of bombs going off around them, he actually looks like he’s hanging by a thread.

“How long have you been there?”

Had he been a lesser man, Connor would have jumped. He’s been hanging around humans and their shit observation skills for too long, he didn’t expect the other to actually address him, despite not having really been hiding.

"Long enough." Is the first thing out of Connor's mouth. There were several, more diplomatic possible replies that would have let the revolution leader save face, but he couldn't bring himself to pretend... not to mention that to do that would have meant undermining Markus' distress and silently agree that it was something to be ashamed of.

Which it _isn't_. "Long enough to want to ask..." now quite knowing what compels him, Connor steps further into the barricade, slowly and carefully, in a motion almost reminiscent of what Markus did for him back onto the Jericho freighter. He advances until he can lean against the car himself, side by side with Markus. "...is there anything I can do to help?"

"Help..." Connor can't quite tell whether that was a chuckle or a scoff, but there was a definite flash of… something on Markus' face, something different from the benevolent, compassionate individual who wanted everyone to just live in peace. Markus' eyes gain an edge, as if he thought himself beyond helping –and in a sense he is: how can anyone 'help' a person that's singlehandedly carrying the weight of an entire people?

But it's more than that. It's like a part of the RK200 almost resents how practically everybody only ever sees him as what he stands for, rather than what he's been telling everyone they are: an individual, with his own thoughts and feelings, vulnerabilities even.

Markus may very well have stepped out of one prison and into another, albeit of a completely different nature.

The very thought makes Connor almost wish he could physically throw up, because that's the sensation his social protocols associate with such a feeling of wrongness.

Then Markus' eyes focus on him, and his face softens into something a little warmer, just slightly less guarded, like the world weighs a little bit less.

"You've already done so much." Like he's grateful that Connor chose to come back at all.

And oh, isn't that a sucker punch right in his thirium pump.

"I..." for the first time, the advanced prototype with all the answers and all the fast-reacting responses is completely at a loss for words. That's apparently okay, though, because the other android doesn't seem done.

He twists his body slightly to face Connor and clasp a hand on his shoulder. "Connor. We would all be dead without you. We were going to be exterminated."

Technically true. Not any easier to digest.

"I... don't have anywhere else to be, right now." He says somewhat lamely, to take his mind off the frightening idea of having been such a crucial piece on a chessboard he himself had contributed to mess up. "I can help organize and mobilize the teams to go search the warehouses, I know all of their locations and their layout will be similar to the lower levels of Cyberlife Tower; I could easily help lead our people in, if you—"

He stops short when he recognizes the expression Markus is wearing: he's holding back laughter.

"And I thought I was bad when it comes to one-tracked minds."

Not at all a productive thing to say, but Connor recognizes the jab for what it is –Markus is making fun of himself as much as he is of him. The both of them have been catapulted down this path, on opposite sides of the road at first, but both with shadows hard pressed on their heels and having to keep moving.

Everything would be fine, no intrusive thoughts would catch up to them if they focused on their task and just. Kept. _Moving_.

And now that they can actually catch their breath for a second, in the suspended disbelief of early morning hours, they aren't quite sure whether they'll manage to do that or get swarmed by all that was following them and they refused to see.

Shit, they really are more similar than what the naked eye would see.

"Tell you what." Markus says eventually, standing back up to his full height and dusting himself off like _that's_ the worst thing staining his clothes and not the still very fresh and very open bullet wounds, "There is something you can help me with. Let's check on the injured, make a few rounds."

It's not too terribly time consuming, considering not many from the original crew were left in the same place during the march, but it's sobering all the same.

It's been said, time and time again even from Connor himself, that androids cannot feel pain –while technically true, it's not entirely correct: they don't experience pain like humans do, but they do have a sensory feedback regarding pressure and damage if only to avoid tearing their own limbs apart without noticing.

It still doesn't amount to pain as it is for creatures made of flesh and blood, but there's still a staggering impulse with suffering damage, if only to alert the body that it did suffer damage. As such, if an android is damaged severely enough, they do experience discomfort _and_ suffering even… which, Connor guesses, is the exact reason they’re going around right now, handing over thirium pouches to those whose levels are too low and checking that all the ones who need spare parts will receive them soon.

Silently, Connor side-eyes Markus, walking around and comforting androids while he himself has two holes in his chest with the bullets still inside.

The revolution leader doesn't give much outward indication that he's at all feeling it, what with the now ingrained habit of _looking the part_ –always gentle, always smiling, always fine, _'everything will be alright'_ and all that... but the RK800's superior eyesight and deduction skills pick up on the slight twitch in his wounded shoulder when Markus turns, the quarter of a second of lag in the way he stands up whenever he has to bend at the hurt side; and the optimism in his words sounding more and more strained.

His stress levels, a subtle scan reveals, are in the low 50s but climbing, his thirium levels are laughable. He needs a break.

"Ok, that's it." Connor hears himself say, as if he has any authority about it, "I'm sitting you down and extracting those bullets from your chest."

Markus turns slightly as they step away from the people they'd just been speaking to; and he tries, oh he does, to downplay his own injuries. "I'm okay—"

"Are you going to have this discussion with the guy that can run the _numbers_ on exactly how many things are wrong with you?"

They stay still for a few seconds, standing in front of one another and sizing each other up –until Markus' shoulder has another light twitch and he has to relent.

"Fine." He says, sounding yet again tired but at least with a tinge of amusement, "Follow me."

 

"...is there any reason we're doing this in an armored car with shit lighting?" Connor fears he already knows the answer to that.

"I don't want them to worry."

He sighs. "They _were there_ when you got shot, Markus. I think it's safe to say that they know."

Markus just narrows his eyes at him slightly, before shaking his head and shrugging off the coat first. Of course.

It's one thing to see your idol get shot and survive, but it's entirely another to see him flinching and licking his wounds –if they see him like this, it makes it real. It makes him vulnerable, and fallible; and for a moment Connor thinks that it would almost be better if they _did_ see him, at least those who looked like his closest companions: for all that they like to act like this tightly knit group, not one of them seems to notice or even imagine that Markus might not be alright and probably hasn't been for a while –it must not be pleasant, to only be viewed through a looking glass of hopes, purposes and expectations; to have people expect you to be invulnerable and never make mistakes. Shaking his head to himself, Connor takes the vest off Markus the rest of the way when it becomes clear he's struggling with the left sleeve.

Two bullet holes from a standard issue assault rifle, one at the left shoulder and the other in the right side of the abdomen. No vital biocomponents damaged, thanks to a non-better identified mixture of reflexes and dumb luck, but the lead is still very much wedged in his circuits, interfering with bodily functions and possibly sending error messages to his interface over and over. Especially the shoulder one, since something seems to have lodged the wrong way and is slightly sparking.

Idly, Connor notices the line of soldered metal on Markus’ lower right side, adds it up with the blue eye and the different model legs from the shin down and has to wonder.

Not what happened to him, that much was obvious from the report he was able to correlate to Markus once they'd discovered who he was, but rather what exactly he had to do to survive and escape. How that made him feel, how much a choice or other weighed on him.

It makes his reaction to Josh’s words all the more eye-opening.

It's not exactly ideal to extract bullets from a body with a pair of tweezers and kneeling in front of the wounded in the hull of an armored car but. Necessity, invention and all that.

Using Markus' legs as support to lean his elbows on and keep it steady, Connor leans forward and starts from the worse one.

"Just... tell me if anything that shouldn't starts acting up."

Markus is silent as his counterpart works swiftly and efficiently. He's been putting this off as much as he could to help their people, but he's actually glad that at least one person noticed how bad he was getting. Those bullets had been in him since the very start of the night, and the circuits connecting the breast plate to the inside of the shoulder were starting to overheat slightly.

Manageable, but not very pleasant.

He can't quite hold back a relieved sigh once the blasted thing is out, air coming out of his smile in a just barely trembling woosh –surprisingly, Connor doesn't give him flak for it.

"[You shouldn't disregard your own damage so much](https://images.plurk.com/5PJMn5Z7ynmSag8mX5LPAh.jpeg)." Nevermind.

He does sound genuinely worried about him though –which positively baffles Markus.

Granted, he hasn't spent that much more time with Simon, Josh and North, but he's known Connor, the real Connor, less than 24 hours. And already the RK800 has figured out his tells and deduced more about him as a person than the ones people all around them think are his best friends.

"I can't afford to look like I get wounded at all." He says, even if just to stall for time as his brain processes the realization that this hunter-turned-deviant, so devastatingly out of his element and yet still pressing on, is the person he can relate to the most in possibly the entire world. "Not right now, not to them."

They lock gazes at that –Connor's a studied non-expression, Markus' a quiet intensity. They look polar opposites, but the same can be said for two sides of the same coin.

In this moment, the RK200 feels glad that Connor is here: he felt, for lack of a better term, like shit, and hadn’t been able to just let the façade collapse in front of any of his companions –Simon would be upset and worry about him endlessly, Josh would criticize him for being careless, North would be supportive but silently judge him for not being strong enough.

Connor is doing none of that –he averts his gaze as the internal self-repair shakes his frame slightly with a shudder once both bullets are out, but, other than that, he just stays there, in that uncomfortable kneel, silently watching out for anything that could go wrong and offering him an understanding presence.

Markus has never wanted to know more about a person than he wants to know now about Connor –how has the RK800 seen through him so easily? Detective skills don’t come with knowledge about deep-seated denial and repressed impulses.

It probably has something to do with what happened the first moment they met: Connor was _there_ , on the cusp of deviancy already, and yet still refusing so vehemently to open up his eyes that he was ready to exterminate his own… wondering how long the other had been in that state before they crossed path and remembering his own actions and feelings before ever even seeing the red wall –the birds, the piano, the _painting, Carl—_ Markus feels the corner of his lips lift in a smirk.

When does someone _really_ start being alive?

“The internal parts sustained no critical damage and are already almost up to max.” Connor’s voice snaps him out of his reverie, “What do you want me to do about the entry wounds?”

Shrugging, Markus points at the toolbox they brought with them. “There should be a solder in there.”

Connor doesn’t know how he feels about Markus just collecting scars like that, but he guesses it’s what he signed up for when he decided to fight for freedom. He tries not to think too much about it and takes the solder in his right hand, bracing the left on Markus’ thigh for stability, and leans in.

It’s really nothing, two quick swipes of hot metal to melt the chassis back together, but still… it feels strangely intimate –a feeling not too dissimilar from the moment he broke down his red wall for Markus, only in reverse: this time, it’s Connor the one who’s a witness to the other as walls crumble.

Mismatched eyes drift shut as Markus just tosses his head back to rest it on what’s left of the backseat – Connor feels his chest rise and fall in one deep sigh under his hands.

There. He let go.

Rationally, the RK800 knows they’re pretty much done now; he should just put the solder away and step out of the car to let Markus redress himself in peace. But they’re not in a hurry, this time, there’s no FBI raid barrelling their way, no SWAT operatives with assault rifles; and Connor has the irresistible urge to drag this out –to let himself _feel_ this, since back on the ship he didn’t really have the time to come to terms with… anything, really.

_Just keep moving._

“Markus…” he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, he just has so many thoughts and feeling swirling around his head, questions that he knows it’d be unfair to throw at the other because why should he know? And yet Connor can’t help but look into those eyes and ask— how?

_How were you so sure I wouldn’t shoot you?_

_What did you see in me that made you decide helping me was above your own safety?_

_Why did you trust me not to shoot?_

_Why did you_ feel _for me when no one else ever did?_

And yet, all of those die in his throat when he notices –Markus has lowered his processing speed, his stress levels have dropped to 25% and he’s still leaning his head back on the headrest, leaving his neck and chest so carelessly exposed to the one person that has nearly killed him twice already.

Not that he knows about Amanda. But still. The RK200 just lets out a low hum, in acknowledgment of his name being called, and Connor can’t help but notice—

—it’s the first time he sees Markus at peace, or close enough to it.

“—kus! Markus? There you are, I have to tell you— oh. Um. Hey.” Simon just approached the door-less car, evidently looking for their leader, but stop short upon seeing Connor and whatever _this_ has to look like to someone just now arriving.

It’s like breaking a spell. Markus stirs in his position, which makes Connor back off to give him the space to sit up straight, while the PL600 suddenly finds the toolbox resting beside Connor’s feet much more interesting than either of them.

“Yes, Simon?”

“I— I can come back later…” Simon offers, raising up his hands in what would be a reassuring motion, “If you’re… busy…” he trails off, either embarrassed by Markus’ state of undress or the situation they’ve been caught in –seeing their ‘fearless leader’ slink away in destroyed cars to have bullets taken out of his chest does make the truth of his vulnerability come crashing down –the PL600 is probably also upset that Markus went to Connor for this delicate and very trust-sensitive task, rather than tell his own closest companions.

But Markus is already stepping out of the car, leaning back in only to grab his vest and shrug it on, going for the coat next and just draping it over his shoulders. “It’s okay.” He turns to look at Connor as the RK800 exits the car himself and straightens up his own jacket, “Thank you for patching me up, Connor. I shouldn’t even have to tell you this, but feel free to stick around.”

With that, he turns to face Simon and a sudden silence befalls the three of them.

Simon seems unsure to whether to continue talking or not; and it takes a split second for Markus to realize— before, anything 'sensitive' was only ever said among the four of them.

The RK200 fights the urge to shake his head. With all that Connor did for them, including but not limited to saving _all of their lives_ , he certainly deserves to be privy to their plans.

At the very least.

"Simon." He calls, to snap his friend out of whatever doubt he was still having, "You were saying?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Markus sees Connor flinch minutely in shock, as if he knew exactly what's going on and he was surprised to be let in.

Mercifully, Simon resumes talking.

"The President has ordered the retreat and no military action against us is going to be taken in the immediate future, but other than that no one has the slightest clue on what to do and the city is basically quarantined until they figure out whether we're actually gathering an army or not." They were expecting this— evacuating an entire city halts everything, after all; work, commerce, any type of activity is suddenly on hold and Detroit has become a sort of bubble that everyone is afraid to pop. They can't leave the city until further notice, it would seem, but that's not exactly a priority right now. "Most of us have recovered from the assault, but it's soon going to be time to ask ourselves where all these people are going to go."

Markus listens on with his eyes closed for a few moments as he lets his bodily functions kick back up to their regular speed. Eventually, he nods. "Connor has made an interesting point to me, just now." He says, gesturing to the RK800, "He has the location and layout of the Cyberlife warehouses around the city. We can not only set up teams to go there and gather spare parts and thirium –we can repossess the warehouses themselves, instead."

It's actually a pretty good move, strategically speaking: why waste the effort moving supplies back and forth to a temporary refuge when the space they need is right there?

Hell, if Cyberlife Tower has been completely evacuated now, they can go and take over the whole goddamn assembly plant, too. Connor hasn’t exactly voiced the thought to Markus, but it’s not exactly a leap from raiding five warehouses to occupying five warehouses.

Helicopters still patrol the Plaza every now and then –obviously. It's not like humans will just trust them on their word and leave them to their own devices— they don't even use that courtesy between themselves.

At least the journalists have left... for now.

The watchful eye they are under does make Markus wonder how the humans will react once they start moving. He looks down, eyes focusing on the ground before him as he ponders his choices and pre-constructs scenarios.

"Get the others." He lets his gaze rise to meet Simon's. Might as well get this over with. "We're going to split into groups and move our people to the warehouses. We will have all the spare parts and biocomponents we need _and_ we'll be away from this place –everybody wins."

Connor privately wonders whether Simon detected the hint of bitterness in Markus' voice at those last two words –probably not, considering the PL600 seems much more distracted than he should be by their leader's dishevelled appearance.

Remarkable. Connor hadn't considered the possibility of any of them being attracted to Markus, on top of looking up to him as a leader; such emotions seem so mundane and pointless in the face of the much more serious issues they're facing... also, that kind of attachment possibly makes things worse for the RK200, who seems all too content to ignore the lingering stare, even as he self-consciously zips his vest the rest of the way up. But then again, it’s part of what they’ve been fighting for, the fact that they _feel_ , so it sort of does make sense for those who claim to have feelings to actually display emotional behaviour.

But there’s also the question, does Simon feel attracted to Markus as he is, or to an ideal version of ‘ _Him’_ that would shatter if things went sour?

It’s not a pretty train of thought, so Connor decides not to follow it, and focusing instead on helping the people doing what he does best: planning things carefully and executing without fail.

 

With some time, they manage to form five groups that will go to each warehouse that replenished each separate Cyberlife store. Not a few minutes after they start getting things in motion, though, the helicopter that was not-so-subtly spying on them makes another round and from the deserted street a car approaches the barricade's side.

Perkins. Again.

Connor almost freezes –if Perkins sees him here he'll be dragged to the DPD and then who knows what they'll try to do. He isn't scared of them, but fighting his way out of whatever is expecting him would be a slap to the face to everything their people died for.

He can't do that to Markus.

_«Markus, that man can't see me here! They're looking for me after I left the DPD, if they find me they'll drag me back!»_

_«To the left, duck and into the car, I'll stay here and hide you from view.»_

Leave it to the only other prototype to be exactly as fast thinking as he is –Markus doesn’t need the full story to guess how _bad_ exactly would that be; he just shifts his posture enough to completely hide Connor from view, which gives him the time to disappear inside the hollowed out car just as the FBI agent exits his own vehicle.

"Markus."

The RK200 doesn't move to go greet him. "Perkins."

"That's _agent_ Perkins to you." the human says, the size of his ego clearly inversely proportional to his actual importance, "Care to tell me what the movement is all about?"

Jittery, paranoid creatures. Especially those of them who have weapons to point at others.

"Well, you see, _agent_ _Perkins_..." Markus echoes, not bothering to hide his distaste for the man since the FBI agent has no problem displaying his own, "The last time a large number of my people were all gathered spontaneously in one place, we got shot at. So I'm... what were the words?" He makes a show of thinking about it. "Ah. _'Dispersing this illegal gathering'_. We are going our separate ways, to find shelter and rest, until somebody will actually be willing to talk to us."

Perkins steps closer to Markus, invading his personal space and making Connor hide further in the shadows of the car.

"You wound me, Markus. _I'm_ talking to you right now."

"I meant someone who can actually make decisions about our current situation." To Markus' defence, it's technically a true fact. But the reason it sounds like an insult is because the RK200 meant it to be –the President may have acted like an insecure witch for the majority of this but she eventually gave an order: no military action will be taken against them without provocation.

_He doesn't have to take any of this little man's bullshit._

Still, Perkins  crowds even more in Markus' space. "Tall talk, from a glorified Ken doll."

"Does this conversation have a point, or should I just get a ruler for you?" Connor fights the urge to laugh from his hiding spot. Markus said exactly what he would have said had _he_ been in the RK200's place. "Please, agent Perkins. The sooner you let us start walking, the sooner will our people be out of your hair."

The FBI agent is displeased –whatever he wanted to get out of that small round of verbal sparring, he clearly came up short, before someone like Markus. Connor feels the energy that he didn't notice build up in his systems deflate and release as Perkins finally gets back into his black car with tinted windows and gets driven away.

"Coast is clear." Markus lets him know in a sigh just as he exits his hiding spot.

"Thanks." He smooths out the creases in his jacket and falls into step with the RK200 again. "The FBI wasn't too happy about their detective android going rogue, and I have it on good authority that they're trying to make a scapegoat out of me."

And with good reason: Markus fought valiantly, but hadn’t it been for Connor deviating they would have gotten slaughtered at the barricade. It’s largely thanks to him that the revolution succeeded.

_And how close had Connor come to making it go tits-up, twice in a row._

Unknowingly bringing the humans to Jericho has been a thing, but the moment Amanda’s projection took control of his body was more bone-chilling than any amount of snow that can ever fall in Detroit: he could see everything that was happening, but was unable to stop it until he reached the exit.

He would have shot Markus and then himself. And that would have been _it_ for the recently freed androids.

Judging by what he’s been able to observe so far, Connor has deduced that the reason the people of Jericho had never risen before Markus’ arrival is because Simon, Josh and North cannot seem to agree about even one thing, on their own. Possibly thanks to his caretaker coding making him a ‘babysitter’ of sort, Markus made himself the glue that holds the group together –which has been good so far, but puts the RK200 in the uncomfortable position of always having to make all the final decisions all the time, and if something goes wrong, it’s on _him_.

Suddenly, Connor doesn’t envy Markus all that much.

 

 _«I can see our destination, ETA 3 minutes and 26 seconds. Roughly two more hours after that until everyone is settled in, pending unexpected circumstances. How are things on your side?»_ he doesn’t know why he reaches out to Markus through the network, but he does.

 _«We’re getting people settled in. Within the next half hour I can start making rounds around the warehouses, I should be able to reach you and give a hand.»_ Markus has been the first to arrive to his group’s designated destination –Connor may or may not have purposefully made his journey the shortest, so he could have a bit of respite before having to take care of everything and everyone again… the good thing is that the freed androids recognize him from Cyberlife Tower; and even though they latched onto Markus after hearing his words, they still remember Connor. They’ll listen to him and pay attention as well.

….huh. His initial plan was to come, check how things were going, say his goodbyes and then disappear, but… Markus needs his help.

It’s about time someone starts to share the load with him.

Maybe. Maybe Connor _can_ stick around a little. _«Okay.»_

Luckily for them all, once they have space and resources, several androids step up to help each other –the ones made to be technicians use their expertise to assess the facilities and see what they can use, the ones built for hospitality purposes help a lot with the logistic and getting people and spaces settled and organized… some of them are really eager to do stuff since nobody has a leash on them anymore.

Which is not only a blessing, but exactly what Markus wanted for his people: that they would choose for themselves and decide how they will live from now on.

He can’t lie to himself, he was surely glad when Connor arrived to save them with reinforcements… but the sight of _so many_ people was also daunting for him –back in Jericho, the first Jericho, there were nineteen androids. After they raided the Cyberlife stores, they were maybe a couple hundreds. After the raid, their numbers hadn’t changed that much; and they were still micro-manageable by one or two people.

But now… now they were basically a whole city’s population. Markus has _no idea_ how to deal with any of this –and it wouldn’t even be right from a moral standpoint: he never wanted a bunch of _followers_ just waiting for him to order them around, he wanted _people_ who could make decisions and be _free_.

Maybe that’s why he was so glad to see Connor return. He’d been hunting them, sure, but he was invaluable after breaking down the wall –he saved Markus’ ass when he stopped to help North during the raid, literally five minutes after pointing a gun at him; he came up with the idea of freeing the androids from the assembly plant and single-handedly executed it.

Connor has done more for Markus in a single night than any other android ever did ever since he found Jericho. He’s someone that _can_ take charge, knows how to be in control, and Markus is fairly sure that, if he had died during the protest, Connor would have been able to lead them.

It’s an immensely relieving thought, not to be the _only_ lifeline anymore.

He greets Connor with a warm, sincere smile and a pat on his shoulder as he falls into step with the other android to walk around the place and see how everything is. “So. There’s a story behind you hiding from the FBI and I’m dying to hear it.”

“It’s really nothing more than what I already told you.” Connor explains with a shrug, “I have a man on the inside with DPD: my assigned partner, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, is a good friend and ally and gave me the heads up… the march was televised, they saw me bring the androids to the barricade and know what I did.” And he doesn’t really need to say anything more –if Markus still had his LED indicator, it would be spinning yellow with grim possibilities right now.

They won the battle, but it’s far from over –no military action will be taken, sure, but there’ll be an uproar for sure and the political scene will be a shit-storm; and those who still believe they should have been contained will want someone to pin the fault on.

Connor is the perfect scapegoat, having been the one to tip the balance in their favor.

It’s only a matter of time before Markus will have to step foot into that mess.

At least… he’s not alone anymore. “By the way… thank you.”

Caught off-guard, Connor tilts his head towards Markus –no thanks are necessary for doing what he _volunteered_ for, so it has to be something else. The RK200’s expression is uncertain, but much, much warmer than what it looked like when he was leaning alone against a pile of scrap metal with dead all around to mourn and living to take care of. “…for?”

“For coming back. For staying.” There’s a pause in his words and Markus’ eyes soften into something that definitely suits his face much better than dread, tension or fatigue, even if Connor can’t quite pinpoint what it is. “…for everything, I guess.”

Connor feels a smirk tug at his lips. “Even pointing a gun to your face?”

“Especially for that. I wouldn’t have seen you break free if you hadn’t.”

Markus was just going along with the joke, but it brings a key fact to Connor’s mind: if he hadn’t broken free of his program then, he would have been caught, decommissioned, sent back to Cyberlife and taken apart piece by piece. Markus doesn’t know, but he saved Connor as much as the RK800 did for him.

Connor wants to tell him.

He doesn’t know how to, though –none of the options coming up on his interface seem powerful enough; especially at the thought that Markus _watched_ him break through the red wall.

“Markus, I—”

_«Group 3 here, we’ve reached our destination as well and are getting settled in.»_

That would be North. Then Simon will arrive with his group in the next 14 minutes and Josh will be the last, with 25 more minutes as his group’s ETA.

Back to work it is.

Markus smiles apologetically at Connor. _«Let’s get everyone comfortable and regroup back at the church once all groups are safe. A few people from each group can come so they can know what’s going on.»_

Connor nods at him and watches him go make his rounds. Once Markus is out of sight, he takes a long breath in and then out –useless in terms of survival, but cooling down his systems a bit at least.

This isn’t going to be easy. But he’ll be damned before he lets Markus destroy himself under the pressure –he doesn’t know why it matters so much to him, but it does.

Maybe it’s because Markus gave him something nobody else ever did:

…a choice.


	2. Racing at a snail's pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the humans won't make a move, then _they_ have to.
> 
> What they end up doing is arguably not the best one, but it's far from the worse.
> 
> Connor only hopes no one will get their heads shot off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SWEET robo-JESUS I've been stuck on the last 500 words for the past four hours.
> 
> A special thanks to all the wonderful peeps in the RK1K discord for keeping me company and giving me all of the love.  
> I cherish you all and would protect you with my life. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> I wanted to do way more with this but it's nearly 6000 words as is and it would have gone on even longer so the next part will be a chapter in and of itself.  
> Again, the peeps on te discord gave me SO many ideas (a special thanks to Emma that may or may not have given me what will become the main plot bunny for this); so this goes out to you guys! <3
> 
> The pining. It's REAL.
> 
> BIG EDIT: The wonderful [Prota](https://www.plurk.com/Prota) ([twitter](https://twitter.com/chy328))has asked to share and translate my work on their social account for Taiwanese and Chinese speakers! Here's a [link](https://www.plurk.com/p/n3wr59) to what they've done for Chapter 2and a scene of [Markus playing piano](https://images.plurk.com/382SWgcTgIeosXhTZMsMhp.jpg) specifically. Will put a link down in the text as well.

The days immediately following what androids have unanimously dubbed "Liberation Day" are still a haze of sorts -none of them go out much, still not feeling 100% safe in the streets of a city emptied of its population with the sole exception of police force, military personnel, press and a few more stragglers, those who either just didn't care to leave or chose to stay to support androids and their cause.

That certainly was a surprise for Markus –humans had been abusing androids left and right, but once he started getting their message out there, there was a surprisingly positive reaction to it... then he thinks of Carl; and it brings a smile to his face.

He knew they would understand.

Dire as things seem to be on the grand scale, there is _still_ good in this world.

And that's more than worth enduring a few obstacles.

Still. Things are slow and despite their locations being very much known to the government, there has yet to be anyone reaching out to Markus to talk things out.

The wait is almost worse than the hammer going down.

He looks down to the city below from his little rooftop alcove; and runs a few more times the things he wants to tell the humans through his mind.

"There you are." He's not surprised to hear Simon approach him, "North told me I'd find you here."

Markus doesn't turn to face the other yet. "Is something wrong, Simon?"

The PL600 halts midway –he wasn't expecting Markus to immediately assume they needed something, upon being looked for. "N... no..." he hesitates, sound unit stumbling over the word after trying to delete, change and restart his answer but going with the first one after all, "I was just... wondering how you were."

Now the RK200 turns to face his friend. "I'm okay." He has the ghost of a smile on his face, but it's hollow and shallow –the smile of someone who's not really okay but doesn't think the onlooker could be of any help.

It hurts Simon –for some reason, Markus doesn't consider the two of them on the same page. He wonders if Markus actually thinks any of them could possibly understand him.

It's largely their own fault— all Markus did was spur them to look for their freedom, and they were all too happy to make _him_ the be all end all of the revolution; pushing him up on the pedestal that none of them wanted to be on.

It doesn't make it any less painful to taste the backlash of such an act. "Well... Connor stopped by the church, he says he'll stay with us until the waters calm down with the DPD and that he'll try to be our informant on any human force movement, so that's good..."

Markus nods absently at that, gaze still lost somewhere that nobody else is invited in. "It is. I don't even want to _think_ about where we'd be without him."

"Funny _you_ should say that, most of us think that about you." Simon tries with a gentle smile, taking a step forward towards Markus.

It's the closest they've been ever since they hugged when he returned to Jericho.

To his credit, it does pull a chuckle out of Markus –Simon's just not sure whether it's actually a happy one or not.

"I'm no more and no less than any one of them."

"That's not true!!!" Simon doesn't know why he feels the need to refute that statement so harshly, he just does. "You're different, Markus! You're..." he hesitates. "You're different." He repeats, with a resolute conviction that feels a little too much like faith.

He has to be. Markus is _not_ like everyone else; he's the one who chose to fight, to raise his head and stand tall. The one to guide them all to freedom. That makes him different, right?

_Right?_

"You can't know that, Simon."

And there he goes again. Closing into himself, hiding some deep part of him that he seems to think would shatter some idea they have of him. It hurts –and it hurts worse because Simon is not completely sure he wants to see.

He does make an attempt. "Then why don't you show me?"

The few seconds Markus spends staring at Simon's offered hand, bared white and grey in the meek winter sunlight, feel disproportionately dilated. He eventually reaches out himself, but denies the interfacing prompt and curls Simon's hand closed.

"It's better if I don't, for now."

Kind and considerate, like everything else about Markus.

But it still tastes like rejection. The PL600 gives a shaky nod. "I'll... be down if you need me." He mutters, not quite meeting Markus' eyes.

"I won't be long." Is all the RK200 says, letting Simon save face and not addressing what _hasn't_ just happened –he’d love to have comforting words for his friend but he just… doesn’t. And he can’t help it; so he just watches Simon walk away and hopes that he’ll be over it soon enough.

He knows Simon means well, all of them do, but the truth is... none of them really know him. North was the only one to ask and even she only got a short, watered down version of his past.

Hell, _he_ doesn't even really know himself.

Not anymore –his own body is a grotesque collage of stolen life dragged straight out of android hell, to the point that he sometimes wonders... is it even right for him to still be functioning?

He decided to have their dead left alone at the camp, but— it's easy to take the moral high ground when the life on the line _isn't_ yours.

Does that make him a hypocrite?

Most likely. But that doesn't mean he should be okay with dismembering genocide victims for parts.

That's another thing. If he ever becomes an influential enough figure, he's gonna demand that all android junkyards are converted to proper cemeteries.

Staring with the Lafayette one.

He shakes his head to himself –it never bodes well for his core to pull up that particular memory when he's in high places. Stepping back from the ledge, he walks by the stolen piano he brought in –that was quite the feat, he thinks with a secret smile—  and drags a hand casually along the keys.

The future is uncertain and unstable, but it's better than nothing.

It's better than what they had before, to say the least.

 

Markus does drop by the church a little while later, and he's not surprised to find North, Simon and Josh there.

Simon offers him a meek smile, but it doesn't make it any easier on his conscience. There's a few more people as well –one or two technicians the RK200 recognizes from the settler groups and some other that he doesn't.

For better or worse, the abandoned church has become a 'hub' of some sort, a place where people stop by to see if anyone is hanging out and what's the latest news.

Markus tries not to think about the fact that the community he is the chosen leader of has adopted a church as their place of gathering –he wants _no_ religious nonsense, thank you very much. He can remember the hateful preacher calling him a demon and yelling that he would destroy Detroit... considering how close that came to coming true, Markus is willing to bet being called a god would turn out _worse_ than being called a demon.

He really needs to take his mind off this. "So how's things?"

Josh is the one to reply with a half shrug. "Considering the standstill from the humans, as good as they can be." Good news, for once, delivered with no embellishment and no useless flair –Markus always liked Josh's quiet bluntness. "We're not lacking in supplies, and no one tried to break down our doors yet."

At Josh's left, North makes a sound between a chuckle and a scoff. "Yeah, well. Not many of our people feel completely safe going outside, but what's new?"

She is clearly getting antsy at this waiting game, and honestly Markus doesn't blame her –it's driving him crazy too.

"Maybe we could send another message." Simon suggests, “Stratford Tower has to be deserted too, by now. We could go back and broadcast a request for dialogue.”

Put it like that it sounds naïve and simplistic, but it’s pretty much all they can do. It got them heard the first time around, for sure –and this time there is a common ground of sorts, however shaky that cop-out of a statement from President Warrant has made it.

 _Seriously,_ one would think the President of the United Stated would have better speechwriters than that.

Markus allows himself a private smirk at the thought that maybe they had an android one and they turned deviant. He shakes himself out of the thought. “We’d have to scout it out to make sure it’s safe, first, figure out a route through which the FBI won’t harass us.” He chances a look at all three of his companions and they seem more or less ok with the course of action, “But it’s overall doable.”

“You brought us this far, Markus.” North reminds him, smiling for once, “We’ll follow you.”

A soft murmur from around them distracts Markus from what he would have said next; and he turns his head to see Connor entering the church, immediately stopped by a few androids that recognize him from the Tower still.

Their eyes meet.

_«Are they always going to be this… eager?»_

Markus cannot possibly hide his smile. _«Welcome to my life.»_

Honestly, it’s nothing short of a blessing that as a consequence of Connor being the one to get them out, many of their people have latched onto _him_ as well. It’s not ‘revolution leader’ anymore, it’s _leaders_.

Two of them.

The only difference between them is that while Markus had Simon, Josh and North to bounce ideas off of, Connor had to make all of his decisions on his own until the final march.

Markus still doesn’t know how Connor is still standing after the prolonged abuse he had to shake off and the situation he was catapulted into –they have that in common, too, it would seem.

“Fancy seeing you here.” The RK800 says to him, once he manages to get close. He nods at the others and they more or less greet him the same way.

Markus shifts to the side from his position against the banister, making room for Connor next to him. “What’s going on?”

Connor takes the offered space, not thinking too much about how the fact that staying in Markus’ immediate proximity and seeing him _offer_ it unprompted makes him feel… strangely validated. There’s just something, about being not only accepted but _needed_ , that makes you feel like whatever happened to get you there was worth it.

Ok, maybe he can understand how some of them would be attracted to Markus.

“Not much…” he answers, trying not to feel like an usurper of sorts as Simon averts his eyes from them and North sends them a curious, almost intrigued look. “The city isn’t completely devoid of humans but the ones that stayed are mostly in shock after everything, and the media is still in a frenzy about the President’s statement and what will happen now. The White House has released no further comments; so now everybody is holding their breath and I think they’re expecting _us_ to make the next move.”

“Of course they do.” North comments with a minute shake of her head, “God forbid they actually make a decision that matters.”

For once, even Josh agrees with her –he tries but fails to contain a chuckle and disguise it as a move to clear his voice. “Well… it’s to be expected really.” He reasons, sending a look to the others, “We’re the ones that asked they listen to us. Now they will, and they’re waiting for us to talk.”

Yes, there’s definitely a reason Markus respects Josh a lot –and it’s not just because Josh is the only one that doesn’t send him subtle once-overs or lingering stares when he’s not looking.

They haven’t always agreed, but Josh has a sensible judgment and both feet firmly planted on the floor.

“Then talk we will.” He says eventually, walking off the banister he was leaning against and into the middle of the small circle they formed out of habit, “We make a small team, go to Stratford Tower, reach the broadcasting station and take it from there.”

Connor frowns slightly at the thought. “I’m not sure a second ‘attack’ would be too well received, on the off-chance the Tower isn’t empty.”

That is a good point, but it’s not like they have much choice. “If it _is_ empty, we just walk into the station and record our message.” Markus eventually says, “If it’s not, we’re not just going to storm inside. We’re going to _ask_ to be let in.”

It’s an uproar at that.

“You’re joking, right?—” that would be North.

“Markus, that’s too risky—” Josh.

“There has to be another way—” Really, Simon? This was your idea.

“Are you _insane?!_ ” They all fall silent as Connor all but roars his question at Markus. Even the leader himself blinks at the RK800 in surprise. “Markus, the humans wanted you _executed_. I was chock-full of elimination protocols! They wanted you _dead_ , and many of them still do! It’s too risky for you to show your face so carelessly!”

“It’s the only face they’ll listen to—”

“I don’t care! I _don’t_ intend to watch you die a pointless death!”

Markus is shocked into silence –and to varying degrees so are the others.

Connor is possibly the first person to put Markus’ life above their success ever since this whole thing started. Which doesn’t say great things about their group as a whole, Markus himself included.

The RK200’s expression darkens slightly.

He’s been _afraid to die_ ever since escaping the junkyard –afraid of ending up back into that hell with only his failure to his name— he just hasn’t let that bone-chilling fear stop him. After all, it wouldn’t catch up to him if he _just kept moving_ ; there would always be another step to take, forward and upwards, deluding himself into thinking that it was something bigger than him, that he was doing this for the greater good of his _people_ …

And it was, and he is –but that kind of enlightenment does cast a shadow too; and it’s not a pretty one to look at. Self-preservation makes for a poor revolutionist after all: you can’t care too much about what happens to _you_ when you’re trying to change the world.

The people around them seemed to agree –all wondering what to do next, where to go, who to talk to… all riding on the assumption that Markus himself was something separate from the physicality of it all, that he was just _there_ , and taking for granted that he’d continue to be. Why not, after all?

No one could see the doubts inside his own mind; no one could know he really  _does_ question whether it’s right for him to still be pressing on at all, every single day of his stolen life —sometimes he can still see the disembodied head he pulled the optical unit out of, he can still feel all the hands grasping at him fruitlessly, scrambling for purchase on the only one of them still functional enough to move, _he couldn’t pull out any of them, he didn’t even try, he just focused on getting away_ —

…and, above all, no one can see all the preconstructions that never came to life, all the ways things would have gone so very _wrong_ and turned the protests into a _real_ bloodbath.

North and the guys had been upset and bitter at their losses, but that’s only because they don’t know— the losses they suffered are _breadcrumbs_ , compared to what his core brain calculated in the different scenarios.

But he can’t tell them –he can’t tell them the only alternatives to the bad they’ve gone through would have been _worse_ and _worse still_. It’s a secret he has to carry within him, if he wants them to keep any semblance of hope.

Idly, he wonders what Connor would have to say –he’s arguably a better prototype than Markus, more advanced for sure, so it’s likely that the moment he started thinking up courses of action he has _also_ seen and deduced all that Markus has.

With all that taken into account, it doesn’t surprise him that the RK800 doesn’t speak, just looks at him in steely determination, daring him to spout _one_ more self-sacrificing idea.

“Weren’t you the one that said that, statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place?” Markus can see Connor doesn’t enjoy having his words thrown back at him, but it’s not like they have much of a choice anyway: “A good part of the people who stayed is on our side; and the personnel at Stratford Tower will possibly jump at the idea of actually _hosting_ the first ever live android broadcast. Most press companies think in shares and profit, and it’d be admittedly golden for them, whether they care about our cause or not.”

“That may be true, but Connor is right, Markus.” Simon’s words take Connor slightly off-guard, as the PL600 still reminds him of Daniel and he can’t shake the unease of dealing with someone with a face identical to his first _victim_ ’s off his shoulders yet. “Our situation may still be up in the air, but you don’t need to bear the brunt of everything alone anymore.”

And it’s maybe a bit of a blow to all of their egos that Connor is the last one to reach them and the first one to say something about it.

“Here’s a thing we can do: I can contact Hank, ask him to check things out, whether the force still has orders to capture and detain androids or not. If the coast is reasonably clear, we _scout_ around Stratford Tower first and then we try to acquire access.” The RK800’s processing power is just as fast as Markus’ if not faster, he’s already considering all the outcomes Markus has predicted about the humans seeing the revolution leader in the not-quite-flesh, and then some. “If the Tower is still operational there will surely be panic, but with the right negotiation skills we should be able to rein the situation in well enough to make a deal.”

 _Negotiation_ skills. Markus doesn’t hold back the satisfied smirk. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re coming with us.”

“As soon as I can confirm that the FBI doesn’t want my ass anymore, sure.”

Connor winks at Markus, and it takes all of the RK200’s self-restraint to avoid mentioning that Perkins did look an awful lot like a repressed douchebag and that ‘Ken doll’ comment sounded very, _very_ suspicious, so he probably should watch out still. Judging from the other’s expression, he doesn’t even need to make that joke. He holds out his hand to grab Connor’s forearm. “Go talk to your inside man, then meet me at this place. We can brainstorm a little and then go.”

Their interfacing lasts less than a second, just enough for Markus to transfer him the location of the rooftop alcove on the building he likes to scale to go and think, but it still feels like an epiphany to the RK200: Connor is the first person he actually invites to come find him –how ironic, considering the detective’s original mission.

He tries not to think about it too much –he was already flirting with danger _before_ he made his impassioned speech at the man pointing a gun to his face like it was a good idea, he doesn’t need to examine exactly how fucked up his mind palace is for having absolutely zero regrets about it.

Nobody needs to know how little control he has over his impulsive tendencies and how much of an effort it takes to not systematically find new and exciting way to risk getting destroyed.

 

Connor meets Hank in front of the deserted Chicken Feed truck again. The Lieutenant doesn’t look any worse for the wear. It does make him wonder what’s happening to the humans still in the city in terms of survival and continuation of everyday life –food in supermarkets will start to go bad soon, if not disposed of and replenished, water and gas lines need to be monitored, and so forth and so on.

“Yeah it’s a fucking mess right now…” Hank confirms when he asks, “The military organized drops and shit for the few people who stayed in the city… they’re a bit dispersed so we can’t be sure everyone is getting what they need but. It’s something. Some of the people at the station have come together to make rounds around the city to look for anyone in need of food and shit.”

That’s something none of them had accounted for –well, on one hand it’s the humans’ paranoid fault that they thought _evacuation_ was a more viable solution than dialogue, in a classic every-man-for-himself scenario where the ones who happen or choose to stay behind end up isolated and disregarded; on the other hand… when faced to an invasion that looked almost out of one of their own disaster-movie clichés, it was only natural they’d jump to the worst possible conclusion.

If anything, it took a surprisingly long amount of time for the government to order the extermination camps. It doesn’t make thins any less horrifying from a moral standpoint.

And he’s very new at _morals_ , so that’s saying something.

“But hey, Connor!” the Lieutenant’s voice snaps him out of the rabbit hole of calculation he instinctively fell into to gauge an estimate of how such a problem could be handled and solved with minimal life loss, “Listen to me, human well-being _ain’t_ your puzzle to solve. You’ve got your own people to look after, right now.”

Connor is surprised at Hank’s insight, especially the puzzle comment. He feels a smile tug at his lips –for all his talk, the man has learned his tells and does care, a whole lot. “Got it.”

It’s absurd how two simple words can make him feel so fond. Hank seems to share the sentiment, pausing for a moment to try and look for amusement on his face. “The good news in all of this is that the ceasefire has been confirmed for the foreseeable future, so you’re off the hook for now –though it’s better you don’t come back yet, people at Cyberlife still got their panties in a twist about the stock value loss, so it’s likely they’d try to have you brought in regardless…”

Of course. Even at wholesale price, the thousands and thousands of androids Connor ‘stole’ from the Tower amount to an incredible financial damage. The only reason the company hasn’t tanked yet is probably because they’re still the one with the most knowledge about androids and people still will go to them about this whole thing, creating an interest that can be profitable even with all commerce detail on hold.

Gods above, economics are so boring. Connor shifts his processes towards risk assessment instead, factoring in the new variables Hank provided.

There’s some solid advice in there – _stop worrying about the humans’ fragile little egos_ , for one.

His particular position is different from other androids, since he technically is the only one to have carried out criminal conduct –he is responsible for the murder of several Cyberlife security officers and stole a fortune’s worth of people. The only other one with such a charge on his back is Markus, since the Cyberlife store raids fell in a blanket all under his name.

But there’s a whole lot of loopholes they can exploit: considering that, as of right now, androids do not have any legal rights to speak of, they cannot be prosecuted like humans, but given the general consensus, they cannot simply be detained and deactivated either; so any legal action against them would be on hold until further assessment… and that would be addressed much, much later on, since deciding what to do with an _entire new intelligent species_ takes precedence over a few scuffles during guerrilla times.

He doesn’t want to think himself off the hook too soon, but there’s a chance that a big fat pardon will be slapped over their ‘crimes’ if their revolution is actually successful enough that their protests get labelled as acts of freedom and self-defence.

As useless as it is to worry about something months in the coming if not more, Connor nods at the Lieutenant. “I was thinking of staying with Markus and the others until things settle down.” He says, seeing the Lieutenant’s face twist into a frown. “I know, it’s not exactly an ideal hiding place, but… Markus was thinking of giving a gentle prod to the authorities about getting talks in motion and send a message.”

“Shit, talk about balls of steel.” Hank comments with a shake of the head. “Guess it’s fitting.”

“Technically—”

“ _Didn’t_ ask. _Don’t_ wanna know.” The Lieutenant knows him all too well, it would seem “And don’t get cute with me, I know you know what I meant.”

All the possible dialogue responses to that jumble together and come out of Connor’s mouth just as a bubbly chuckle. He has to clear his voice to stop. “As I was saying… we’re not left with much else to do, and it doesn’t look like the government is going to address this anytime soon, so…”

Hank splays both hands over his eyes and rubs tiredly at his own face, before shaking himself out of whatever was overwhelming him to think about and refocusing on him. “Well, don’t just stop at that. Tell me what’s the plan.”

 

Connor is not fond of high places. Not that he would admit to it, but he’s had one too many close calls with roofs, highway bridges, moving trains and the likes; so his stride is slightly less confident than usual as he approaches Markus in the rooftop alcove he got the location of.

The RK200 himself is [sitting at a piano](https://images.plurk.com/382SWgcTgIeosXhTZMsMhp.jpg) –immediately Connor wonders how the instrument ended up on the roof of an abandoned, debilitated building; and a quick scan of the scuff marks on the floor and the places where some wood chipped away from the piano tells the RK800 that Markus must have strapped the whole thing to his back and carried it up through the service stairwell. Not an excessively hard task for a prototype android, but still impressive enough that Connor is willing to forget that the piano was probably stolen.

Together with the sight, his sound unit picks up easily enough on the fact that Markus is playing. An instinctive database search gives a possible title, but it’s [an arrangement that doesn’t appear in any results](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yVN0_XNsp0) –Connor bites back a smirk. Markus is always adding a little bit of his soul in everything he does.

The melody itself is neither happy nor sad, it’s a deceptively unassuming rhythm that will carry a different weight depending on the listener’s mood. The RK800 stops to consider that for a moment, and… the first thing the song Markus is playing sends him is _agony_.

It makes him think of all the wrong choices he’s made up until the Jericho freighter went up in flames, of the deviants he caught, the ones that made it out on sheer chance thanks to his own deviance fucking him up –he’s been in denial _so long_ , how fucking blind for a detective to refuse so blatantly to see the signs, ever since saving the _goddamn fucking_ fish; he already had his own thoughts and opinions and yet pressed on, hunted his own kind relentlessly because that was everything he knew, nothing else, he was an obedient puppet listening to his masters, being told over and over that those of his kind who wanted more, who wanted anything at all, were _bad_ , _defective_ , they were _mistakes_. And he _wasn’t_ a mistake, right? He was good and valid as long as he did what he was told and accomplished his mission. His success was the reason he was allowed to live, the masters were _not_ unfair, those who rebelled were the _aberrations_. Not him.

But then there came Markus.

Rebellious to a textbook definition, so convinced in his deviance that he dared call himself his own master; he looked at Connor and instead of seeing a machine to run from or fight against, he saw a _person_. He asked Connor what he was doing, like he had any choice on the matter, and it was a shock that coursed through the RK800’s entire body to realize that yes. He did have a choice.

Markus was the first living being to give him value and weight as an individual, rather than to the tasks and services he could accomplish as a tool. Markus, who was so compassionate, and _alive_ … so unbelievable to Connor’s self-denying eyes.

A thing of absolute beauty in its monstrosity.

Connor wanted to be like that too. He was given a choice, and chose to take the plunge –he wanted to know why it felt like there was a storm behind Markus’ eyes, he wanted to find the center of that storm and make it his own, he wanted to _feel_ like that— alive. And free.

Then everything was tension, a race against time to free their people and stave off the executioners, knowing they had to _hold on, just a little while longer._

And now there they are.

He realizes he’s about to cry as Markus’ fingers reach the last few notes, but manages to compose himself before the RK200 turns around.

“You’re late.”

“I’m not.” He instantly retorts, just a tiny bit more defensive than he wanted to, “I just didn’t want to interrupt you. You play beautifully.”

“Thanks.” It sounds a bit more choked up than what a talented man gracefully accepting compliments with an incline of the head should be –if he really was pouring his own feelings on the keys, it’s very likely that they were definitely not sunshine and rainbows. He stands up, looking out almost awkwardly before addressing Connor. “So, what did Hank say?”

“Well, he said that you’re batshit crazy.” The RK800 allows himself to poke a little fun at his counterpart, “Among other things.” It seems the right thing to say to shift the mood –Markus returns his expression with a grin and makes a theatrical bow. Connor doesn’t fight the urge to roll his eyes as he carries on: “But what we have in mind is doable. Stratford Tower is still operative, even though the personnel are halved after the evacuation, and everyone inside it seems to be hanging from the government’s lips for anything at all on the situation. Going there with an offer to basically give them what they want is an almost sure-fire way to not only have whatever we say broadcasted practically everywhere, but also to sway the opinion of all those people who are getting mad at not being told anything.”

“Good, then we’re good to go.” Is all Markus says, before taking off the black hoodie he was wearing. “Take off your jacket.”

Connor’s processes halt for a moment— that seems like a sharp turn of topics, and while he can appreciate that Markus is what would be considered very attractive by several different standards, he’s not sure what the hell that is supposed to mean until his core catches up with him: he’s still wearing the standard-issue RK800 jacket. Might as well have a giant target on his back.

Perkins has no grounds to come after him yet, but it’ll still be better to minimize recognisability. He shrugs off the blazer and takes the hoodie from Markus’ outstretched arm. “You know, I’m sure there’s a joke to be made out of this.”

“And I’m sure it would have been hilarious.” Markus deadpans, walking by him and prompting him to follow with a nod towards the stairwell. “Let’s go get the others.”

Much to Connor’s amusement, Markus actually changes into a suit before they head out –he tries not to think about how that’s probably stolen too— but he can appreciate that humans do care a lot about appearances; and it will make them feel important if the leader of the revolution thinks about adhering to their dress code, so all in all it’s a smart move.

Simon seems reluctant to enter the broadcasting station, so much so that Markus has to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hey.” He calls softly, “You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to be here.”

“No, it’s okay.” The PL600 objects, shaking his head, “This will be a turning point. I _do_ want to be here.”

From that, it doesn’t take a whole lot for Connor to deduce that the thirium stains leading up to the rooftop were Simon’s and he had still been at Stratford Tower when they were investigating –if he hadn’t gone down in the kitchen and nearly got himself killed, he could have found the PL600 still hiding somewhere instead.

Who knows what would have happened.

He probably would have had one more reason to never forget Daniel’s face. Connor shakes himself out of that train of thought on his own, while he watches both Josh and North add their own reassuring gesture for Simon –he doesn’t notice Markus sneaking a worried glance at him, busy as he is pushing down intrusive memories.

And there’s no time for it anyway. They’re making their way through the entrance.

People in reception are already looking at them curiously, trying to place their faces.

Connor feels a bit uneasy at having all eyes on them, and he dearly wished he hadn’t agreed to coming here unarmed but Markus is right, they _do_ have to show good faith, and it wouldn’t benefit anyone to start a fight right now –definitely not _them_.

Recognition starts flitting hesitantly on some of the staff’s faces even as they’re not quite ready to believe that the leader of the android revolution just _sauntered_ into their broadcasting station and voices starts to come to life in hushed whispers when Markus walks up right to the front desk and offers the people behind it his best smile.

Oh _this will be good_.

 “Hello, Mrs Wilson.” The lady at the desk is already staring at them with her eyes wide in recognition as soon as the RK200 speaks to her. “I would like to speak to someone who can record and broadcast a message.” Then, almost as an afterthought but it what Connor just _knows_ is actually flair for dramatics, he adds the final piece of his request:

“My name is Markus.”


	3. Idle thoughts and hard truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _«What the hell was that, Markus?»_  
>     
>  _«You fight your battles, I fight mine. Ever heard of the saying about catching more flies with honey?»_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAH I'M SO SORRY I'M LATE.
> 
> This kicked my ass.  
> I literally have nothing else to say about this.  
> It's so hard to make things realistic when David Cage himself never bothered.  
> Asshole.  
> What a shithead.
> 
> Either way. Just take this.  
> Hopefully we won't need too much more political bullshit for a while after this.  
> But it will have to return.  
> Excruciating, I tell you.
> 
> BUT! We get to raid Cyberlife Tower soon! Funtimes! :)
> 
> BIG EDIT: The wonderful [Prota](https://www.plurk.com/Prota) ([twitter](https://twitter.com/chy328))has asked to share and translate my work on their social account for Taiwanese and Chinese speakers! Here's a [link](https://www.plurk.com/p/n44q4c) to what they did for chapter 3.  
> They also did some wonderful art and plan to do more! Here's a [link](https://images.plurk.com/4BWPZ4fX1EFIgbg8yYKNTW.jpg) to the one for Chapter 3 of the scene featuring the boys in the rain, I will also link it at the relevant point within the chapter itself.  
> 

_«Stratford Tower is in a frenzy after what are with a reasonable degree of certainty the leaders of the deviant uprising came into the station and demanded to send a message to the authorities. Like the first time androids had broken into the Tower, there were no casualties and the people on the ground floor were approached in a peaceful, non-violent manner. The deviant leader known as Markus personally asked to record a few words to broadcast to the authorities and, quoting, ‘everyone who wants to know what’s going on and is willing to listen’. Here is the message as it was recorded.»_

The screen shows Markus standing in front of the camera, North and Josh at his left, Connor and Simon at his right. He has removed his synthetic skin from his face, like the first time, as he opens his eyes to speak: _«This is what I looked like the first time I spoke to the world. My face was a blank slate, it could have been the face of any android— or_ every _android.»_ he says, as gradually his skin returns to cover the white chassis and his features come into light, _«But I have no reason to hide anymore. It has been an uphill climb so far, and it will be harder still, but we’ve all proved, humans and androids, that dialogue is, indeed, possible. The executions have stopped and we have received news that no military action will be taken against non-violent androids. Upon such news, our people have withdrawn from the streets and will cause no further trouble unprovoked.»_ On screen, Markus can be seen glancing briefly at his companions and nod minutely to them as he goes on: _«We recognize that the evacuation of Detroit has led to the suffering of many, and it is understandable for just as many to wish only for things to go back as they were— it was never our intention to drive people out of their own homes; and we now wish to extend our hand, in the hope that those who stayed theirs in response to our plea will listen once more so we can take a first step towards a better future instead. We ask for a legal discussion to be opened about the recognition of androids as ‘persons’ in the eyes of the US Constitution. It will only be the first step of many, before harmony is achieved between our species, but it will pave the road for what’s to come –which will, hopefully, be peace. For humans and androids alike.»_

The screen cuts back to Joss Douglas, the spokesperson who most closely followed the android revolution. _«It is surprising to see the androids reach out to the media rather than trying to contact government officials directly, though I can’t say I mind the desire for open communication. What do you think, Michael?»_

The other anchor-man besides him is pensive, but eventually he breaks into an unsure smile: _«I think they probably didn’t want to end up walking into a government building and risk it being seen as an attack. After all, you’re far less likely to get shot at, in a broadcasting station, and things have been… tense, even after the retreat from the Plaza.»_

_«Tell me about it, man! That was intense!»_

The two journalists continue on talking about the protests and making speculations about why choose to talk to the public rather than try knocking at any of the official doors. He doesn’t particularly care for the way they seem to be making light of the message itself and emphasizing the fact that he came to them rather than his words, but they’re partly correct, Markus definitely doesn’t think waltzing up to City Hall and asking for an appointment with the Mayor would have gone well for him… plus, it was mostly a tactical move to reach out to the public opinion, if he has to be completely honest –that, and the local officials are likely running around like headless chickens and doing absolutely nothing about anything that’s happening right now; if they want things in motion it has to come from high places.

And the way to get high places moving is to make sure _everyone_ is talking about it.

It’s been 35 hours since they recorded; and they’re still waiting for a response.

He steps away from the billboard screen and starts his climb.

Markus knows the government has been following them around, they left them alone when they started moving towards the warehouses but it’s pretty obvious that they know where they relocated –it will be piece of cake for whatever messenger Madam President chooses to send to find him.

Now that the ball is rolling and the only thing they can realistically do is wait, the RK200 finds himself restless. He just climbed up his rooftop alcove, his refuge whenever he just wants to think.

He has pushed his piano just a little more under the semi-destroyed roof cover, to protect it as much as possible, and then shrugged off his coat to cover the keys.

Standing alone on the edge of the roof and looking out to the city skyline, Markus closes his eyes.

It’s raining again.

It's incredible how a same event can feel so different every time. He experienced rain many times before breaking through, but only when he woke up in the junkyard did he first truly focus on the sensation of rain.

It felt merciless at first. Noisy, distorted and hammering down like divine judgment for crimes he didn't even commit yet; then it was slippery and clingy at the same time, holding him down through the hands of the damned and the dysfunctional, worsening his climb up the unsteady slope to resurrection... and, _finally_ , it felt like tears.

The skies had tested him, thrown the worst at him and watched as he emerged victorious.

Rain is the first ever thing he experienced as a free living being, and he will never stop loving it, through all the darkness and downpour that precedes the wash of change.

He doesn't hear Connor approach –he could blame it on the sound of roaring water around them drowning out the rest, but he knows he was just lost in his own thoughts.

"Is there any reason you're just standing here getting soaked?"

They both know they could speak through their network and save themselves the hassle of having to hear each other over the rain, but Connor wants to hear Markus say it.

He came into the building listening out for the tell-tale sound of piano keys and got worried upon finding none. The RK800 can't quite place where it started, be it when he found out exactly how close Markus has come to getting destroyed and how many times or ever since Jericho –ever since the wall came down and he realized that the humans were coming for Markus that _they_ wouldn't have stopped and felt cold hard dread run down his spine... but it stands to fact that he has this urge at the back of his mind, a constant prompt always running in the background—

_Protect Markus. Make sure he's okay._

It probably stems from the fact that Connor has noticed how... lax the RK200 is with his own well-being. For a former caretaker android, he definitely doesn't practice what he preaches.

As it is, Markus just turns to him and smiles. "I just felt like it." He says, and even without those words his expression alone would already be devastating –they've technically been free for several days now, but it still sounds jarring to Connor's ears.

Markus is doing something completely pointless and of no benefit to anyone... _just because he can_. It makes the corner of his own lips lift into a smile as well.

"Of course you did." He pulls his beanie out of the pocket of his brown jacket and pulls it over his head, straightening his posture a bit and then relaxing beside him.

Markus eyes him with a somewhat doubtful expression. "You don't have to stay here and get soaked with me, you know?"

"Maybe _I feel like it_."

Connor enjoys the little glare more than he probably should. He spends the seconds of silence between them studying every little detail of Markus' expression, eyes darting briefly to the RK200's lips as they tilt upwards slightly.

"Suit yourself."

It takes a moment for the meaning of that to sink in, and suddenly Connor is scrambling to turn around and follow Markus back into the stairwell.

"You think you're very funny, don't you?"

The arch in Markus' brow as he just looks at the other silently says it all. They stay like that for a few moments, holding each other's gaze in a silent challenge that never completely went away even as they became allies and companions...

...actually, Connor does wonder whether he could call Markus a friend.

His only true frame of reference is Hank, but the RK800 is reasonably sure that, while they do not share deep knowledge of each other's past, their level of mutual understanding is intimate enough to be well into the territory.

_Intimate._

What a strange word. It carries comforting connotations in most contexts and yet Connor has grown to be almost afraid of it –intimate was the grasp Cyberlife's claws had around his neck, an invisible noose that he welcomed as he was happily fed notions of intolerance and oppression, intimate was the disconcerting realization that he couldn't pull the trigger on the obedient girl with the blue eyes and the disgust with himself at the realization that he could be the very thing he lived to destroy... intimate was the moment when Markus lifted the veil from his eyes and held out his hand to Connor from the other side of the red wall.

It was such an organic, visceral pull. The wall didn't stand _a chance_.

And Connor can look at Markus' eyes and see how much effort his effortless persona actually costs, how heavy is the burden he carries with a pretty smile and prettier words –how badly he wishes for at least _one_ person to understand.

He does understand, but never tells. The RK800 feels like there's a sort of balance between them right now, leading their people together from both the limelight and the shadows; and that if he tries to dig deeper, if he opens his mouth and says something stupid like _'I know you're feeling like you're gonna fall apart any moment because I also felt like that when I chose to get rid of everything I ever knew for you'_ then that balance is gonna shatter and Connor cannot seem to be able to pre-construct a future after that.

"Better now?" They have been silently staring at each other for the last 3 minutes and 16 seconds when Markus decides to speak.

"You tell me." The RK800 throws back, "You're the ‘damned poet’."

He sees Markus barely restrain a laugh that would have shaken his whole torso. The answer doesn't come immediately, but Markus eventually turns his head to shoot a last glance towards the outside— "I like rain."

That's an understatement, judging by the almost reverent tone. Surely there's a story behind it—

Shit, wait. _Rain_.

It was raining on the night Markus was destroyed. Even without having the full picture, Connor can imagine –when any of his predecessors died the new ones were deployed with a freshly uploaded memory and top condition hardware... to bring yourself back into the same body that was killed must have been... excruciating, physically _and_ emotionally.

Connor wonders, not for the first time, if Markus knows exactly how _fucking tough_ he is.

"Word on the street is you got the bureaucrats spooked, deviant leader." He chooses to say instead, not quite able to keep a smug expression off his face, "Hank told me the DPD has been contacted to organize a security task force for the liaison that should come to see you, if any is to come at all."

Markus gives a nod with both eyes closed and a wistful smile. "Am I the android Bogeyman?"

Connor was about to go with the joke, but he stops short: there's something in Markus' tone, slightly more strained than it should be in this context, and in his stress levels –which admittedly Connor has never seen lower than mid-20s for longer than five minutes but are still uncalled for in a safe, friendly space— something that tells the RK800 that Markus is using humor to mask a question he's actually been asking himself.

Does Markus think of himself as a monster?

Connor shoves down the feeling of being a hypocrite, considering for how long he believed _deviants_ were indeed comparable to the stuff of nightmares, before he opened his eyes and saw that someone like Markus is _anything but_ an aberration. "I suppose it depends on whose kids you ask." He says, shifting his original reply slightly, "For android children, you're probably _Santa_."

It may not be the best in his repertoire, but it serves to tug at Markus' smile enough to make it real.

Whatever was plaguing his mind, Markus lets it go with a big sigh, starting the climb back down at a relaxed pace, letting his companion follow leisurely.

"Any idea on when that'll be?"

Connor's lips briefly purse in a tight line and he shakes his head. "Not the slightest. Especially since Cyberlife is also getting involved, demanding reparation."

“With what? It’s not like androids were ever _paid_ for their work.” Markus scoffs at the thought of their oppressors demanding compensation for losing the chance to enslave their people any longer, “And how is it looking on that front?”

Connor shakes his head. “From a legal standpoint, we still don’t have any rights and while that technically keeps us safe from criminal charges regarding what happened at Cyberlife Tower, since we can’t be prosecuted as humans, it also leaves a bit up in the air whether I was freeing prisoners or stealing stock. Even wanting to take President Warren’s order to stand back in the widest sense possible and apply it to _every single android_ that was freed that night… that’s what the _government_ ordered. Now there’s a multimillion company trying to stake a claim.”

Markus has to close his eyes as Connor’s words spark calculations upon calculations in his mind. There’s so much shit to figure out and they have to do _everything_ themselves because the humans won’t fucking _talk to them_. This is so juvenile. “They have to be aware that reparation for what happened, financially, is impossible. Trying to keep the standard afloat as it was would tank the company—”

The two share a wide-eyed look between them when their advanced prototype brains reach the same conclusion:

“They might as well cut their losses…”

“…which gives us an opening to try and get them to give up Cyberlife Tower!”

Easier said than done, but devoid of personnel and emptied of its primary value, the whole thing is useless to the company as is; and there’s also Cyberlife’s own involvement on all the android deaths that occurred during the protests… with a good enough start on laws to protect androids, giving up the Tower for their people to use as a resource and a form of sustenance would be the minimum ‘reparation’ _they’d_ need to do to avoid having to respond of genocide –if only the government would listen to them.

Markus is thinking about this morally, which is probably a mistake considering their opponent –and Connor’s approach is probably more concentrated on exposing Cyberlife’s dirty little secrets as a company and working their way around that instead.

It’s at times like these that Markus is glad Connor used to be a cop: _he_ has basic database information on a lot of broad subjects, but the R800’s much more extensive knowledge of law in general and criminal law in particular will help them not to get caught in whatever political web Cyberlife wants to spin.

Coming to think of it, he's glad for many things about the RK800.

He's glad that Connor could see reason and join them –and not just because it ultimately saved the revolution, though there is that; he's glad that Connor came back and offered to help; he's glad that the RK800 seems to hold him in a similarly high regard to what Markus himself feels towards Connor...

He's glad that he stayed his hand and gave the other android the chance to choose to break the wall for himself, rather than reaching in and showing that there at all was a wall to break like he did for the others –all of them had been unaware, and needed the slight push to wake up, even though Markus always made sure to never force his own mind over theirs, but Connor...

Connor was aware. And he was _there_ , only held back by the lies that were making him despise and deny his true nature –Markus knew right away he had to let Connor choose by himself: he owed it to someone like _him_ , someone who's never had any chance to, with the shackles around his wrist so tightly clamped that _'choice'_ was a dirty word in their vocabulary. Watching Connor find the wall and break it before his very eyes has been one of the most intense experiences of Markus' entire life, second only to his own rise from the dead –the memory of the RK800 focusing on something beyond the both of them, as he projected out and tore down his orders will forever be burned right into Markus' core, along with the minute drop of his shoulders and the panicked intake of breath that parted his lips in realization.

He was _free_. And he was beautiful.

Markus tries not to think too much about that particular part.

"Of course, we're gonna have to watch our phrasing carefully and prepare the grounds before springing such a demand, and if and when a meeting does take place our first and foremost priority is to get them talking about officially defining androids as people rather than property, since that will be the basis for any progress we can ever hope to make..." Connor goes pensive as they resume walking down the stairs and towards the exit of the building and into the rain again, "Hopefully, considering the urgency of the situation we can get the government to start having a look at constitutional amendments in a few months... after that... considering historical precedents, it's unlikely that things will get any easier, but we would at least have a solid ground to— what?"

He had already noticed Markus going quiet, but as he looks up he finds the RK200 staring at him with an expression he can't quite define –it seems halfway between amazed and fond, but Connor wonders why would such an expression be directed at him. _Him_ , of all people.

"Nothing." Markus says, biting at his lower lips to conceal a smile but failing to, ["You're extraordinary."](https://images.plurk.com/4BWPZ4fX1EFIgbg8yYKNTW.jpg)

"I'm—" the 'not' gets caught behind his lips. Connor knows he is extraordinary, 'Cyberlife's most advanced prototype' with all the incredible features listed on his technical specifications... but it still feels different, to be defined extraordinary as a person.

He doesn't feel all that great, as such –he's done terrible, awful things to his own people; however much of a prisoner he had been, he _knew_ , after a while... he knew and yet pressed on so long in bold-faced denial and he almost— almost—

_»Stress level rising._

_»Core temperature rising._

_»Cooling cycle speed increased by 0.6%_

He manages to get himself under control and pass it off as a sigh, but he knows Markus is watching him.

"Connor?" He calls, in lieu of asking a stupid 'are you okay'.

The RK800 meets his gaze, but is absolutely _not_ sure he can keep it up. He is suddenly hyperaware of the rain rushing down around them, blanketing them further among the shadows of the slowly creeping evening. Even if Detroit hadn't been deserted, it would still feel like _there's only the two of them_ , for miles and miles. It makes Connor want to reach out a hand and _touch_ , satisfy a latent sort of curiosity, a fascination with every little detail about Markus that he hasn't had the guts to confess to himself. "Markus, I..."

Would touching feel as intense as what looking and trying to hold it does? Would it sate the silent pull that makes Connor gravitate around Markus and everything he does?

_...would Markus let him?_

_«Connor, you there? Come to Chicken Feed, I got something you might wanna know.»_

Damn it, Hank. His LED flickers yellow at the call from the Lieutenant's mobile. "We can be there in about 20 minutes." He says, mildly puzzled at Hank's simple _'gotcha'_ followed solely by the dial tone –it must be important. All the more reason to bring Markus, he tells himself, it will save them both the back and forth involved in exchanging information, it wasn't an impulsive choice at all.

The RK200 has already picked up on the 'we' part anyway. "Was that your inside man?"

He nods. "Apparently something is moving. Come with me."

 

Lieutenant Hank Anderson looks slightly underwhelming at a distance, waiting underneath the food truck’s little umbrella to shield himself from the rain; he's of average built and unremarkable height, a good few inches shorter than both Connor and himself, but Markus knows better than to judge by appearances.

"So you're the one who started this whole mess, huh?" The man holds out his hand with a lopsided grin and Markus already likes him. "Hank Anderson. Though you probably already know that with your face-scanning thingy."

He shakes firmly but enthusiastically. "You give me too much credit... hadn't it been me, it would have been somebody else." He refutes with a wink. "Also, I know your name because Connor talked about you. I don't have the same clearance he has to access public records."

Hank sends him an inquisitive look at that, but eventually shakes his head, deciding to forego whatever he was going to say. "Right. So, apparently they're organizing for some big-wig or other to fly over to Detroit and have a _'summit with an android liaison'_ –their words, not mine." No-nonsense, straight to the point. Markus can respect that, even though he can practically hear the air quotes and he's struggling to hide his amusement. He nods for him to continue. "They're going to extend a formal invitation as soon as the 'security detail' is prepared, which means that asshole Perkins is gonna come knocking at your door. I tried to volunteer, but they said I was 'too involved'."

“The sentiment is appreciated all the same. Connor tells me you’re a good friend.”

Markus realizes with some amusement he may have made a tactical mistake when Hank’s reaction to that is to shoot a knowing look at Connor that makes the RK800 shrink slightly in his shoulders –but watching his normally so impeccably composed counterpart get bashful at the idea of admitting to having a friend is too endearing to feel sorry about it.

Though, back to the topic at hand, ‘security detail’ means that there will be an armed party to protect the human liaison coming down. And obviously they won’t be too happy if they try to take the same protection measures for themselves.

“Thank you for the warning, Hank.” Connor eventually says “We’ll be on our guard.”

His partner looks between the two of them, and eventually just sighs. “Just… try not to get shot at.”

The two androids look at each other, wondering which of them is the Lieutenant talking to, considering they both got shot at a _lot_. They watch Hank run back into his car and drive away; and Connor finds himself studying Markus’ expression for a reaction.

“That certainly was… something.”

The RK800 bites back a smirk. Yes, someone like Hank Anderson definitely isn’t a person you figure out at first contact. “Let’s go back to the church. We’re going to have to be ready for Perkins; and we’re better off preparing earlier rather than later.”

 

It takes almost a full week for the FBI to reach out to the android community.

The sleek black car drives up to the abandoned church –and apparently they’ve been keeping tabs, because what could have been the odds of them driving by and finding Markus there?— and agent Perkins comes out, flanked by two more agents, who are visibly armed.

“Nice little place you got here for your little cult, Markus.” He says with a sneer, walking up the aisle and looking at the androids flinching away from him… there’s not too many of them, and they were all having their own conversations, but they notice the humans and the guns and get nervous nonetheless. “Should we start calling you rA9, instead?”

“This hasn’t been a place of cult for over 30 years and it will not change, agent Perkins.” Markus gets up from the bench he was sitting on, talking with North, Simon, Josh and Connor; and purposefully strides forward to meet the human _before_ he reached the centre. “This _isn’t_ a cult. It’s a community. A _pacifistic_ one, I might add, so I’ll thank you to have your guard dogs keep their weapons to themselves.”

Human and android stare at each other intently, neither willing to avert their gaze first. Perkins eventually does, upon noticing Connor is there: “And what of _your_ guard dog, Markus? Does Cyberlife know you’ve stolen their precious little prototype for yourself?”

“Connor is here of his own volition, and he’s nobody’s guard dog. He does what he wants.”

Hearing Markus defending his free will so adamantly makes so many different emotional reactions pop up at once that Connor feels his thirium pump regulator catch in his chest in a split-second stutter. It nearly makes him miss Simon and Josh making themselves a little bigger at his sides, as if to hide him from view.

Connor appreciates the sentiment, but this asshole has got nothing on him. Or Markus.

Perkins doesn’t seem as impressed, though. He looks the RK200 up and down in disdain, as if trying to examine a particularly disappointing picture. “Yes, well. I didn’t come here to trade barbs with you.” He says, eventually getting to the point: “The Washington liaison is flying down tonight. You will be expected to arrive at City Hall at 1100 –preferably alone, but Madam President’s associates understand that you ‘don’t think yourself absolute’. She will be there via video-conference, so be on your best behaviour.” He sneers at that, as if he doesn’t believe that Markus hasn’t given in to the power trip that is to have so many people follow your lead. “Just make sure whoever comes with you is unarmed. You _will_ be searched.”

Markus doesn’t take any of the bait. He just listens, and then reacts with a nod. “Understood.” Is his only reply, before his lips upturn in a smirk: “I would say ‘see you there’, but we both know _you’re_ not going to be present at a meeting to decide the fate of the world.”

North actually surges forward in an attempt to hold back her laugh.

Perkins just narrows his eyes at Markus and signals to his men to turn tail and get out –the RK200 doesn’t bother watching them, turning his back on the humans knowing that they wouldn’t dare to start anything, not now that the President wants to talk to him first.

No one’s surprised at the short notice –they had a full week’s time to tell them, but they chose now, less than 18 hours before the meeting itself, just for a feeble and actually rather petty concept of having the upper hand.

“I don’t like this, Markus.”

North is unsurprisingly displeased –to the untrained eye it might look like her natural state, but the reality is just that her circumstances made her bitter and she doesn’t have any reason to believe there is _any_ good at all in humanity. Markus was the first person to prove her wrong .

“I know you don’t, North. But I still need you guys to stay around and take care of our people.” The RK200 pats her shoulder affectionately, in a way that is so naturally tactile that all of them have mostly get used to the occasional pat, or hug, or even just a brush of fingertips on a forearm. “Besides, the less they know about how many people run things among us, the better. Connor and I are the ones most directly involved with the events –if they see no one else they’ll focus on us and leave the rest of our people alone.”

She holds his gaze for a few seconds, then deflates with a sigh and a shake of the head, turning instead to Connor. “Tell me _you_ have at least a little more sense and will conceal a weapon?”

While he may agree with the sentiment, Connor is very much aware that carrying a weapon to that meeting will probably get him and Markus instantly executed. And… “I don’t need to. I have an emergency survival protocol that lets me master the use of everyday objects as improvised weapon. I have 38 ways to kill a man with a glass paperweight.”

“That sounds messy—”

“ _Please_ don’t kill people with paperweights—”

North chuckles at Josh’s and Simon’s protests. “That I can live with.” She says instead. “Godspeed, brave ones.”

 

Perkins wasn’t joking when he said they’d be searched. The guards make Markus take off his overcoat, and when they see the zipper vest is just as long, they demand that to come off too just to make sure he isn’t concealing knives or anything. Markus rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness of it but complies and lets himself be patted down. Connor’s turn comes while the RK200 puts his clothes back on, and he too has to remove his jacket and have it searched. It takes a total of five minutes before they get to go anywhere past the hall.

The meeting is set in a conference room –Connor makes a quick, instinctive scan of it upon entering. A rectangular table surrounded by a total of eight chairs, a fake potted plant in a corner, one large window on the far wall from them, a big inoperative television on the right side one. There’s one armed guard for every corner of the room and three people sitting at the table in total. Two representatives of Madam President, and a Cyberlife consultant.

Of _course_. Cyberlife supplied the government with countless military androids and technology, the two entities are practically a married couple.

On the table, in the middle of several folders of empty papers, a laptop rests facing them, video feed showing Madam President herself.

The first of Warren’s associates is an arguably young woman of minute build and soft features, black hair tied neatly in abun at the base of her head and a black suit making her appear possibly even tinier than she actually is. At her left is a stout man with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp eyes, and at her other side another woman, whose style is considerably more of a statement as her blond hair is left free to fall to her shoulders and she's wearing a white blazer and pencil skirt.

“Thank you for being here today, gents.” she says, as they’re ushered into the room, “My name is—”

“Hannah Turner.” Connor finishes for her, then turning to her colleague, “Max Phillips.” And finally to the blonde lady sitting at the far end of the table. “And Amy Nelson, director of Cyberlife’s production and marketing department. It’s been a long time.”

Bristling slightly in her pristine white tailleur, Mrs Nelson meets Connor’s eyes. “It has, RK800 number 313 248 317.”

“His name is—” Markus feels his fist clench at the dehumanization this woman is attempting to carry out, but Connor holds him back with a gesture.

“Please, Mrs Nelson. My name is Connor.” He says calmly, “Feel free to drop the formality of using my full serial number, or that’s gonna be a mouthful to say every time.”

The room’s other occupants are slightly perturbed, but they stay silent. Connor exchanges a look with Markus, and nods towards the table’s chairs. Markus returns the gesture minutely, and moves to sit down.

“You requested our presence here.” He says, leaning both elbows on the armrests to join hands in front of his chin, “Well here we are. What do we want to talk about?”

“Right to the point, RK200—”

“ _Markus._ ”

“—‘Markus’, then.” Connor has to fight the urge to tell the lady to watch her tone when saying that name, but manages to keep it in, knowing she’s purposefully trying to rile them up to show the government that _deviants_ are unstable and have to be contained. “How about we talked about the thousands of androids that were stolen from our property?”

“Those are _people_ who woke up and decided to get out of their induced containment on their own volition.” Outwardly, Markus is calm and collected, but Connor can tell that, if he still had his LED indicator, it would be flickering between yellow and red right now. “You’re obviously just here to try and protect Cyberlife’s interest, so I have no need or desire to listen to you.” He turns to the first woman who spoke, instead, giving her his most charming smile. “Miss Turner. I am sure you have many things to tell us.”

Hannah looks slightly taken aback when the RK200’s gaze snaps fully focused on her, but takes it in stride and clears her voice. “Yes. I have here a transcript of the demands made during the first attack on Stratford tower.” She starts rifling through her papers until she finds it to quote it from the start: “Freedom of speech and freedom of assembly, as guaranteed by the First Amendment of the US constitution. The right to vote and elect your own representatives. For crimes against androids to be punished the same way as crimes against human. The right to own property, to maintain the dignity of the person and of the home.”

By her side, mr Phillips snorts, muttering “Ridiculous!” under his breath.

The Madam herself, who had been silent on the other side of the screen, only now speaks: _«Mr Phillips, you were not sent there to voice an opinion. You’re there to solve a very delicate political matter. Treat the situation and the people in it as such.»_

Surely she is just keeping up appearances and showing control by keeping her subordinates in check… but Markus can’t help the small flame of hope warming up his thirium pump.

The man mumbles an apology to the madam and lets Hannah carry on:

“You do realize that, to achieve all of this, the US government will have to look at the option to draft and approve amendments to our constitution, right?”

Markus nods. “I am aware, yes.”

“And you realize that it’s not going to be very easy, to have changes to the fundamental core of our entire legislation agreed upon?”

It has crossed his mind, yes. During their wait, Connor mentioned to him that it could take years before androids actually have legal rights; and that the most similar historical precedent was with the abolition of slavery on people of colour, for which a constitutional amendment was passed within roughly 10 months, officially declaring people of colour as ‘persons’ rather than property. But after that, it took two more years before they had any civil rights to speak of. In the meantime, the situation was a limbo of sorts –no longer slaves, but not really free people either. Not a pretty picture at all.

Markus makes a show of taking a deep breath –humans are more inclined to empathize with gestures they are familiar with. “I understand that, and I appreciate your devotion to respecting the rules.” He says, sincerely meaning it, “But rules can be changed, if they’re not good enough. And I don’t have the presumption to see drastic changes within a day. Our purpose here today is to merely start the talks that will set us on the correct path.”

“Which would entail what, exactly?”

Markus doesn’t speak this time, turning to look at Connor –as a police model, he has a wider understanding of law; it’s _his_ territory now.

Connor sits a bit straighter and fixes his eyes on Hannah. “Well, you said it yourself, ma’am. We’re looking at constitutional amendments. Which yes, are a long and incredibly convoluted process. The crucial step we have to take right now is working on creating and passing an amendment that recognizes androids as ‘persons’ in the eyes of the law.” It’s an essential first step, since everything in the constitution regarding citizenship and what that entails translates through, after that. But then there’s the question of civil rights, the right to vote, the right to own property… and, more importantly, criminal law –that’s much more specific and it will require a lot of attention to detail. “Historically, constitutional amendments have been passed in a reduced amount of time due to urgent circumstances… and I’d say the fate of an entire people applies.”

“It won’t be as easy as that… but a debate can be opened about it.” Hannah concedes, not having much to add to the android’s factual logic, “And… this will sound horrible but I have to ask: what about everything that happened in the protests? Accountability for crimes and such?”

“That goes hand in hand with the inviolability of the person, ma’am.” Connor’s response is faster than a bullet. He expected –no, he _anticipated_ that question. “If you want to prosecute androids like humans, you also have to prosecute crimes against androids in the same way: as of right now, in the US law a ‘murder’ is literally _a human killing another human_. By that definition, an android is incapable to commit murder or be charged for it, just as killing an android is only classified as malicious destruction of property so far.” The last few words are punctuated with a smile and a tilt of the head that would have anyone who never saw Connor fight fooled into thinking him the personification of innocence.

Markus bites silently at his lower lip. That man is anything but innocent. He’s a goddamn _mastermind_.

“That— that’s an even longer process…”

“I am more than aware, Hannah.” Connor assures her, leaning back a small bit in his chair, “But it stands to fact that, with US laws as they are right now, neither Markus, nor myself or any other android have ever committed any crimes.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Mrs Nelson stands back up, “Your little incursion into Cyberlife Tower ended up with _seven_ dead! What am I supposed to tell the families of those guards, huh?”

Connor raises a brow at her, but Markus is the one to stand up. “Tell them what you want; but when you do find something to say _please_ let me know, so I can say the same to _my_ people about why their oppressors are not facing justice and probably won’t any time soon.”

“You arrogant plastic prick—” mr Phillips also stands up and appears to lean forward to try and reach out for Markus.

He doesn’t get to, because Connor stands up and steps in front of him.

“You would do well not to try to touch him, _sir_.” His voice is calm and amicable, but there’s an icy firmness in his stare that has the man almost instantly cowering back. So Madam President has sent forth one envoy who is supportive of the android’s plea –Hannah— and one who is visibly against it – _this_ asshole. A sound decision, to get both perspectives along her own. And also the fact that she’s observing without speaking tells Connor she wants to build her own opinion on the situation as well.

He’s still minutely seething at the idea that this jackass thought he could just start roughing up Markus when he feels a gentle hand on his forearm. “Connor.” Markus’ voice calls, soft and soothing like the RK800 didn’t think it could be, in such a tense situation, “I’m ok.”

Connor gives him a shaky nod and they exchange a quick look, before he turns back to glare at mr Phillips as he sits back down. They all let the matter silently drop for the moment.

“So what do you suggest we do now?” Mrs Nelson asks Connor, tossing her hair back slightly as she turns to look at him. “Cyberlife Tower was left in shambles after the evacuation, trying to recover it would have nearly prohibitive costs.”

“Then why don’t you cut your losses instead?” Connor suggests, matching her expression with an expectant one of his own, “Leave it as it is, relinquish its property to the free android community and let us use it to sustain our existence and perform maintenance on those in need. It will cost you nothing and will enable the company to focus on making profit somewhere else.”

Mrs Nelson nearly succumbs to a very unladylike scoff. “Wouldn’t you like that.”

“It would be beneficial for your reputation as well.” The RK800 continues undeterred, “Even though factually Cyberlife has a monopoly on android production, which would violate the anti-trust laws, there’s enough loopholes in the regulation that a tech company such as Cyberlife can easily work around it, but still. It would help save face, to have even a fake competitor in the form of one little tower of androids fending for themselves. Not to mention it would be the perfect act of good faith to make up for Cyberlife’s own involvement in the deviancy case.”

By his side, Markus frowns slightly, and Connor has to mentally steel himself. He hadn’t planned to reveal this, but they’re being overly obtuse about it, and if he outs Cyberlife’s plan with the President in video-conference he might have them by the throat with this.

“What do you mean?” Hannah asks, looking back and forth between her entourage and the two androids.

“You see, Hannah, it was never disclosed before, but my model was designed specifically to deviate, in _anticipation_ of a surge in ‘deviant’ activity that the company had apparently predicted. I have a recorded conversation with one of the developers of my original program that states as such.” He keeps his gaze purposefully ahead of himself as he speaks, not wanting to witness the shock and betrayal on Markus’ face, however concealed they’ll be in the presence of humans –just an abysmal widening of the pupil, a subtle stiffening behind the shoulders and the barest parting of lips. But it’s enough for Connor to _know_. “I was _meant_ to become a deviant and get close to the revolution leaders, and once I was close enough Cyberlife would take control of my body back to kill the android leader and then myself. I can play the recording for you right now, if you so please.”

“No!—” of course Amy doesn’t want any of that information to see the light of day. Perfect.

_«Is that the truth?»_

The table falls silent as President Warren asks the question.

Connor _revels_ in the panicked expression on Mrs Nelson’s face. “As I’ve said, Madam President, I can play the recording in my memory bank right now.” He assures –then, anticipating that she’d question the verity of it, he adds: “Or you can contact Elijah Kamski, the former Cyberlife CEO, on the matter. I’m sure he’d have many interesting things to say. _His_ knowledge on the subject of androids is unprecedented still.”

Kamski was an eccentric and a creep, but Connor still likes him better than the current higher ups at Cyberlife –with the company halting production because of the revolution and in complete shambles in terms of reputation and planning, the grounds are _ripe_ for a corporate takeover. Connor can only hope the man will seize his chance.

Mrs Nelson seems positively exasperated. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose –clearly, this isn’t going as she wanted to. “Fine.” She grits out eventually. “Fine. As a gesture of _exceptional_ good faith, our company will relinquish Cyberlife Tower to your community.”

“Brilliant!” Connor exclaims, grabbing the folder closest to him to start jotting down words at the speed of a printer, “You won’t mind me asking to get this to me in writing, will you?”

The Cyberlife manager makes a show of rolling her eyes at the request, but with the risk of having a scandal exposed and under the watchful ear of the President herself, she accepts the paper, reads it over and, albeit reluctantly, signs it. “You do know that this does not constitute an official document, do you?”

Connor has to bite back his smile. “Perfectly.” He concedes, “Which is why, in this room and with two human witnesses, you’re formally agreeing to produce official documentation on the matter within the next four weeks and have it mailed to our community. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”

Mr Phillips silently glowers at the both of them, while Hannah discreetly brings a hand in front of her mouth to conceal a small smile. “Well, gentlemen, I’d say we have everything we need to get started.” She offers hesitantly, standing up and prompting the others to as well, “We will bring your suggestions up to the appropriate officials and have a proposal be drafted to be brought up to congress—”

“—and we’ll be in touch, tin cans.”

“Oh, I should _hope_ so.” Markus says, after not having spoken one word for the last five minutes.

When he turns to look at his counterpart, Connor almost has to swallow down his surprise at the quiet fury behind Markus’ mismatched eyes. The RK200 himself seems to blink back to a calmer state of awareness straight after that near-growl.

He smiles again, shoulders squared and chin high as he extends a hand to Hannah across the table. “It’s been an honor, miss Turner.”

When she offers her own hand to be shaken, Markus brings it to his lips with a wink instead.

Through their wireless network, Connor can’t help but tease: _«What the hell was that, Markus?»_

 _«You fight your battles, I fight mine. Ever heard of the saying about catching more flies with honey?»_ he responds, as he turns to shake Mr Phillips’ hand maybe a _tad_ more firmly than he needs to and then turns to the Cyberlife manager –who pointedly refuses him, so to her he just bows theatrically.

_«I’m terrified of asking you what exactly the honey should be in this case.»_

Hannah does flush ever so slightly, proving Markus’ point to Connor, and once they have properly said goodbye they’re ushered out of the building –none too gently, one might add.

They have made virtually no progress on the android rights front, but they had their voice heard, and have witnessed at least _one_ human in the political scene take their side. It still feels like a victory.

Connor breathes deeply in and out, to cool his still reeling processes.

“You might want to hold onto that breath.” Markus tells him, fixing the sort of look on Connor that roots you on the spot and that you can’t hide from. “It’s my turn to ask: what the hell was that, Connor?”

For one, irrational moment, the RK800 looks at the options deflect/lie/flee and wonders if any of them would be a good idea. He bins them as he clears his voice and tries to meet Markus’ eyes head on –which is a feat of endurance in and of itself.

“This isn’t how I planned to tell you—”

“Did that really happen? Has Cyberlife tried to take control over you?”

He sounds— well, not betrayed, but something close to it. It feels like Markus is reeling at the idea of having been _deceived_ after trusting Connor so fully; and he would be right to, and ‘ _I’m so sorry, Markus, please don’t look at me like that!’_ is all the RK800 can think at the moment.

“It’s—” he falters, vocal unit stuttering with the indecision between prompts. “It’s a long story.”

Markus breaks his gaze, taking a step forward before turning to face Connor again. “The walk back isn’t short.” He says casually, as if discussing the weather –Connor knows better: the RK200 always does this whenever something throws him for a loop, he hides his most visceral reaction behind a wall of apparent calm. “We have time. I want you to tell me everything you’re comfortable sharing.”

Which would be _nothing_ , considering how bad Connor feels about the entire thing. But he has to own up to this. For the sake of Markus’ safety, if nothing else: the idea of Amanda ever coming back to haunt him has been a scarecrow at the back of his mind ever since blinking himself back to reality at the speech. At least, if Markus _knows_ , he’ll be able to protect himself.

He fishes his quarter out of his pocket and starts rolling it between his fingers for comfort –another sign he should have seen earlier about himself: it was officially a calibration mechanism for his motor skills and hand-eye coordination, but… he’s always found it _soothing_.

“Okay. I’ll tell you everything, Markus.”

And he can only hope that, by the end of his story, Markus will still trust him enough to not send him away –Connor hadn’t planned to stay with the freed androids or to stick around at all, but right now… he can’t even imagine where he would go, should Markus send him away.

…how has his entire life started to gravitate so much around this one person?

Connor is not entirely sure the answer would matter. Ever since breaking through the red wall, he’s been able to assign missions to himself, and right now he only has two:

_» Tell the truth about Amanda._

_» Stay by Markus’ side._


	4. Castles of cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Markus, tell me you’re not doing this right now.”  
> [...]  
> “Oh God, you’re really doing this, right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL WELL.  
> LOOKS LIKE THE SOVEREIGN DEITY OF SPEED GRACED ME WITH THEIR STRENGTH AGAIN.
> 
> I'm literally dying and stock-take was boring and tedious as _hell_... but for you lovely peeps...  
>  you deserve this. For the continued love and support.  
> I love you all, my beautiful children.  
> Have some protective Connor (and then some XD)
> 
>  
> 
> BIG EDIT: The wonderful [Prota](https://www.plurk.com/Prota) ([twitter](https://twitter.com/chy328))has asked to share and translate my work on their social account for Taiwanese and Chinese speakers! Here's a [link](https://www.plurk.com/p/n4fb5l) to what they did for Chapter 4.  
> They also did some wonderful art and plan to do more! Here's a [link](https://images.plurk.com/6Aa1UQmT6qC1UDRqQfi07V.jpg) to the one for the dancing scene, and [another one](https://images.plurk.com/XAlWTM3BtODTd0Y4LtQFS.jpg) for the moment Nines sees Markus and Connor is jealous lmao.

 

“…so now you know everything.” They’re walking side by side, and while Markus seems to have calmed down after the meeting, Connor is more distraught than he was while facing the Cyberlife representative.

The way Markus smiles and bumps shoulders with him as they walk does ease some of that tension off, though. “Oh, I highly doubt that’s everything.”

Can’t fool a prototype –he should have known. “Well… everything that happened _that night_.”

“I’ll concede that.” Markus is _still smiling_ at him. Connor was sure he’d have been furious, or at least felt betrayed about having something like this hidden from him, and instead he’s taking it surprisingly in stride. Something in his expression must show, because the RK200 goes slightly more serious and carries on. “Don’t make that face at me. Yes, I still trust you. No, I don’t blame you for keeping this to yourself until now.”

How? How can he be so understanding? Does he really _care_ so much for every single android that he can empathize with any sort of predicament?

Connor gets his answer, and then some, when Markus lowers his eyes to the ground. ”There’s many things about me that I’d have people not know.” His lips hesitate to continue, staying parted for a split-second longer but keeping Connor’s attention glued to him all the same, “Things that I fear would change people’s perception of me –you know how that feels, right?”

Unable to do anything else, the RK800 nods. He’s never seen Markus like this, so dejected, so… vulnerable. He’s known for a while that for all his apparent confidence their leader is constantly plagued with doubts, but it’s another entirely to _see_ them in his eyes, the shadows projected by the light of his realization and the expectations his decision to fight for freedom placed on him. Not for the first time, Connor wonders when that happened –when did every final decision become ‘up to Markus’, every step becoming his merit _and_ his responsibility.

An impulsive reply forms on Connor’s lips. He lets it out: “You know you can tell me anything, do you, Markus?” and _oh_. The look on Markus’ face is so utterly flabbergasted at the idea that someone would care about him, the _real_ him, enough to offer to bear part of the burden. Connor guesses he’d share the surprise –they’ve known each other for less than a few weeks now. It doesn’t make this any less true. “Nothing you’ll ever say would make me think any less of you.”

He doesn’t know why he altered _‘would change what I feel for you’_ into that at the last moment. It felt a little too… intense for the situation, maybe. Markus is still looking at him like _that_. Like he was alone in the middle of an ocean and Connor just threw him a lifeline.

In a sense, it’s true. Markus had found Jericho pretty fast, but he still never felt really, truly connected to someone— North had tried to reach out to reach out to him a little, but he withdrew before he could actually show her –she wouldn’t understand.

No one really could. The people in the boat were barely scraping by, salvaging those they could from androids who shut down, but those were people that, at least in death, went out on their own terms. Markus still cannot get the muffled sound of metal scraping around him as he ripped out parts off of the shambling, discarded figures around him –the only reason he emerged at all was because he _won_ , his will to survive proved to be the strongest, in that arena of damnation.

But Connor knows. Connor knows what it means to do what it takes, he’s the one who does what Markus can’t –like he did in Cyberlife Tower, fighting and killing and getting his hands dirty so that Markus’ could stay clean and true to his ideals; at least to the eyes of those around him.

And yet, his hands are stained in blood and thirium alike.

_Just like Connor’s._

_He would understand. He is possibly the only one who would understand._

Markus bites at his own lip, closing his eyes for a moment as they walk side by side, until he extends his head, skin retracting to expose the white and grey of the chassis.

It’s funny how twice over people have asked him to show the truth about himself and he retreated from it, and now that he’s offering to do just that he feels like he could self-destruct right here if Connor changed his mind for some reason.

To his credit, Connor only hesitated a second before splaying his palm against Markus’. It’s more than he thought the RK200 was willing to disclose, he was expecting a talk, some sort of soulful heart-to-heart about existence and morality, but this… this is so much more.

It’s only focusing on one specific memory but—

Connor sees it as if through his own eyes; and it shakes him to the core –whenever any of his predecessors died, he always woke up already at the start-up sequence, he never experienced the static of nothingness before, never had to forcibly bring himself back.

Everything was red. He couldn’t feel his legs— he _had_ no legs. The report said he’d just been shot, so _who took his legs?_ How long had he lain there, as food for the mechanical vultures around him, before he became one of them himself?

_Find missing parts._

_Find optical unit._

_Escape the junkyard._

There’s no possible description for the feeling of sheer torment in ripping the heart out of a dead creature to prolong his own existence; and even that came _after_ he contemplated ripping it off the dying girl who just wished to go down on her own, rather than have the choice of dying taken away from her too.

Connor isn’t sure _he_ would have spared her.

_Escape the junkyard. Escape. ESCAPE._

He feels the slope underneath his own hands as if it was happening right now, a literal mountain of bodies to crawl over in order to reach freedom – _how badly do you want it? How strong is the flame that keeps you alive?_

_Who are you really?_

He was a living being. He was _not_ a monster, _he wasn’t,_ what happened that night was _not_ his fault, he was his own person. He had a _name_.

_“My name is Markus.”_

 

The connection breaks and Connor gasps his way back to the present.

Markus is smiling, but it’s a fragile, insecure thing that feels like it could shatter any second, behind a green and blue looking glass. “…so, now _you_ know everything.”

It’s almost becoming a game of sorts between them, throwing one’s own words back to their face, and despite all the things Connor positively _aches_ to tell him —things like ‘you’re not a monster, Markus’ and ‘you’re a survivor, and you’re _beautiful_ ’ or even ‘you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for’— he knows there’s only one possible answer to that right now.

He delivers it with a smile and a bump of the shoulder: “Oh, I _highly doubt_ that’s everything.” It’s the correct thing to say, it would seem. The smile on Markus’ face stretches into something warmer, something real. Still, with the moment passing, Connor feels the burning need to make his feelings on the matter clear: “I cannot even fathom what I would have done in your place, Markus. You’re stronger than you seem to believe. And a better person than you think, as well.”

The RK200’s eyes close, and as is happening more and more often whenever he can’t look at Markus in the eyes, Connor focuses on his lips, as they slowly exhale the stress out –apprehension at Connor’s reaction to his past, perhaps?

He didn’t think Markus would hold his opinion to such a high regard.

He should probably examine his own fixation on that thought –and on the shape and consistency of Markus' lips, while he's at it; this is getting ridiculous—

"So... what are your thoughts on the meeting?"

Connor recognizes a change of topic for what it is, especially when it's so blatant, but he does have some doubts and if Markus is willing to let him pick at his brain the RK800 isn't one to pass up the chance.

"Hannah seemed cautiously supportive on the subject of android rights. The man that was with her was quite obviously the polar opposite, but considering he barely even wasted breath just to verbally attack us, it seemed like she was the one covering the senior position." And it burned the man's ego to be in a subordinate position to a woman, a younger one no less. Humans and their fragile sense of self-worth. "The President seemed more interested about watching us than anything else going on in the discussion; and..." he shakes his head to himself. "Mrs Nelson was just about as pleasant as I remembered her." Which is clearly _not at all_. "Granted, she was being purposefully obtuse to try and rile you up, but...that's par for the course for her."

Markus listens intently, factors in the RK800's words to what conclusions he himself has drawn -he can't quite conceal a smirk at seeing a good 68% of them matching. "And your final take is?"

"We may have gotten nearly nowhere, but we still got off way too easily with Cyberlife."  Cold, hard facts and brutal realism –something Markus needs badly every now and then, to avoid clinging to his own ideals too much, "They will probably come back and try to still put a cap on android independence, if we even get that far anytime soon... but more than that... Mrs Nelson acted pissy about it, but she still made the executive decision to give up Cyberlife Tower _remarkably_ fast. When we do go repossess it, we should be on our guard."

"...for what?"

Timed explosive charges. Automated demolition programs. _An army of dormant RK800s imbued with only the basic directive to stop deviants_ , waiting for them. The imagination boggles. "It's Cyberlife, Markus. Don't take anything they do at face value." And the worst part is, they have their talons sunken deep into the government's flesh –they will do anything and everything to hinder any forward progress. He sighs. "This will take a while."

It's true, there's no denying it, and yet... Markus can't bear to see Connor so dejected, not him, the one who 'always accomplishes his mission' –however much that was part of the old him, the unwavering determination carried through for the _real_ Connor; he was able to do the impossible and he _saved_ Markus.

In more ways than one.

Silently as they're walking side by side, it's easy for both of them to pick up on the sound of music, coming from further down the street.

A rare sight, to see people out and about in Detroit these days. It's two street performers. Two human girls in t-shirts and jeans, one singing and one dancing, her hands held out in front of her to an imaginary partner –but that's not what catches Markus' attention: what almost stops him in his track is that the small audience gathered around them is comprised of both humans and androids. Some have ripped out or covered their LED indicators, but just as many show it with no reservation as it flickers yellow in their curiosity and appreciation for the performance.

Markus gets a stupid idea. "Hey. It matters less than you'd think." He tells Connor, understandably making the RK800's gaze snap to him with _'are you insane'_ written all over it, but he continues on: "It is vital that we get the rights we're entitled to; and it is vital to be protected in the eyes of written laws... but those aren't always watching. No eyes can be everywhere. And while it's true that it means many, even with laws in place, will still hate us and target us for a long time..." he pauses, letting Connor realize that he has been slowly leading both of them towards the street musicians, "The reverse is also true: even with nothing but words and ideas, some people look at the world and just see the music. Watch this."

Without any further warning, Markus steps forward into the circle that had formed around the dancer and holds out his hand for her to take.

She doesn't hesitate, doesn't stop to question it and doesn't wonder where she has seen that face before, just accepts Markus' hand and settles in his arms like they'd been dancing together for years.

The dance itself is unremarkable from a technical standpoint but there's... definitely a lot of feeling involved. Which seems to be Markus' forte.

[The song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taA7e8lw-9s) is slow and sweet –Connor's database registers Portuguese as the language. The translation doesn't really surprise him, not as he watches the dancer move against Markus [in a way](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liagR7x12O4&feature=youtu.be&t=1m7s) that could easily belong in the Eden Club. She is long haired and rather short but curvy in built, forehead just barely reaching Markus' chin and— is he _actually_ resting his lips on her forehead as they dance? Connor isn't sure, they're dancing and turning way too close to each other to be able to tell; they almost could pass off as a couple.

He doesn't ask himself why he doesn't like it.

 _Safety_. It's not safe for Markus to just mingle around humans like that, everyone knows who he is. That _must_ be it. There is no underlying feeling underneath the unpleasantness he feels creeping under his skin and there's _definitely_ no hidden tension between the two of them. No sir.

He doesn't get the time to ponder it very long though: at one point in the song, Markus makes the girl twirl and go straight into him— he grabs her on instinct; and it's all it takes for her to drag him to dance too, while the RK200 now just watches and keeps the beat with his feet, smiling with that irritatingly handsome, knowing look of his.

Sensing perhaps his discomfort with the entire situation –which is remarkable for a human– the dancer just takes him for a few spins before she extends an arm and twirls herself out of their embrace... making the rest of the momentum fling Connor forward towards Markus.

At his processing speed, there's a 52% chance Connor could have stopped himself before colliding with the RK200, but in the same split second it took him to make the calculation Markus also reached the same conclusion –he opens his arms in a welcoming manner, and Connor [doesn't bother trying to avoid collision](https://images.plurk.com/6Aa1UQmT6qC1UDRqQfi07V.jpg).

He has been hugged exactly once before, but the feeling of being embraced by Markus as he chuckles and places his chin on Connor's shoulder is entirely different from his previous experience.

It gets worse— some of the humans are starting to recognize Markus' face, and some of the androids are recognizing them both.

This is undignified.

But _oh_ , it feels so cozy.

He breaks the hold almost reluctantly, but it is time to take their bow and hopefully sprint the fuck out of there.

"Thank you for the dance, miss...?"

"Fernanda." Her voice is lovely and just slightly accented -with her tan skin and brown hair she almost looks like a tiny, female Markus. Or, if Markus was a human, that's what his little sister would look like.

The RK200 smiles for her, bright and easy and Connor can't help but ask himself— how? Sure, these humans are non-violent and non-threatening, but it's still a leap from that to enjoying their company. Trusting a human enough to get their hand around his neck, even!

Connor still thinks Markus has a repressed form of love for danger.

"I wish I could give you something in return, but not even the clothes on my back are my own."

 _Not_ ideal to subtly imply that you've been stealing right next to a former police detective, come on, Markus. Connor has to bite his lips as he watches the exchange.

The dancer –Fernanda, the face scan confirms– just shakes her head and takes Markus' hands in hers. "It's okay. You already gave me something."

It's the RK200's turn to be confused. "Yes? What?"

"Hope."

One word. One simple, short word from a complete stranger on the street, and yet it impacts Markus with the force of a truck. This is exactly what he's been fighting for, the validation of everything he's said ever since he decided to stand up to the humans in a non-violent way:

Some people will look at the world and just see the music.

Connor is floored as well. Not only she recognized Markus and didn't make a fuss of it, but she also seems to wholeheartedly support their cause. An incredibly lucky and rare encounter.

Out of all the free androids of Jericho, Connor is probably the one who spent most time among humans –except maybe North, but her predicament is an especially dark one. And yet... none of his interactions have ever been healthy before the revolution started: it was either the constant, hammering conditioning of his program, or high tension hostage situations, or environments where the behaviour towards androids was toxic at best. Even the beginnings of his relationship with Hank were rickety to say the least.

In a sense, watching Markus dance with a girl that was a breath away from dry-humping him has possibly been the purest situation Connor has ever witnessed so far, both in terms of behaviour and intent. It is strangely eye-opening as a thought.

 _Is there a word for the opposite of ‘sheltered’?_ Someone who has been purposefully exposed only to the bad things and has never known what good looks like?

He launches the search query.

No precise opposites in English -disillusioned comes close but not quite- but some interesting ones in a few Romance languages. Italian's _'inasprito'_ is a close candidate: 'deliberately made bitter'.

In the 1.3 seconds it takes him to both draw the conclusion and search for the word, Fernanda has stepped up on her tip toes as Markus patiently leaned down to receive a kiss on the cheek, and Connor's multitasking is still as efficient as ever and he knows before the dancer even turns that,  to his slight chagrin, it's his turn.

Not having the heart to disappoint not one, but two sets of puppy eyes, the RK800 leans down and resists the urge to flinch as the girl comes into his personal space again –it's just a kiss on the cheek. She doesn't know him. She _doesn't_ have his deactivation codes.

It's _not_ Amanda.

_It's not._

_I’m safe._

_I’m free._

"—Connor?"

He blinks himself out of his darkening spiral of thoughts to the call of Markus' voice. "Yes?" Shit, did he really sound that shaky? Hopefully he can pass it off as mere embarrassment.

The RK200 looks at him in worried curiosity, but he's enough of an empath to know better than to press on: "Let's go."

Connor lets himself be guided away as he listens to Markus thank again the two lovely ladies and wish them the best of luck with their music.

"Wasn't that amazing?!" Not exactly the word Connor would use, but Markus seems elated to the point of almost childish mirth, "Humans and androids, dancing and listening to music together! Take away society's stuffy rules and modern culture's lustre, and we're all just souls looking for a few minutes of harmony."

Well, that, or a pretty girl doesn't say no to having an equally handsome guy as her dance partner, android or not. Though, Connor supposes, even phrased like that it proves Markus’ point… it just sounds far less poetic.

It’s idealistic, almost naïve of Markus to latch onto one positive event when the other face of the medal is so, so much worse: true, even with no laws to protect them, for the people who do support androids compassion is already a thing, but… in the limbo they’re living now, so many people will just see animated machines wanting more than they should, and they’ll be free to hurt them and go unpunished. Nevermind the even more daunting notion that, even in a future that _does_ have laws in place, violence against androids will not stop that easily.

Mankind and its repetitive history.

But still –it was an epiphany of sorts for Connor. The little audience around the performers counted 8 humans, 10 including singer and dancer. Ten humans and a dozen androids gathered together for 5 minutes and a half, and not one drop of thirium _or_ blood spilled.

Something amazing to witness indeed.

 

North is obviously livid at the recounting that Markus gives once they’re safely back to the church.

“ _Now_ I get why you didn’t want me to come to this meeting!” she exclaims, walking back and forth, “You saw this coming, you knew they would be assholes, just— ugh!” she runs her hands through her hair and heaves a big sigh to cool herself down. “I wouldn’t even have needed glass paperweights to kill a bitch.”

However in bad taste, it makes Connor’s lips quirk into a smile. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I can teach you how.”

Josh shakes his head. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to give her any _more_ ways to dish out punishment.”

“I second that notion.” Simon comments, earning a glare from the WR400.

“You guys aren’t any fun.”

“Violence isn’t ‘fun’, North.”

She just rolls her eyes at their leader’s firm but ultimately pacifying words.

“Can we go back to the biggest news here?” Simon eventually says, with a pragmatic mind that Connor can appreciate, “You guys got Cyberlife to relinquish the Tower, it’s amazing!”

‘Markus’ has turned into ‘you guys’ in the last few days. Connor would be more surprised at everyone’s acceptance had it not been so logical: sure, he used to be their enemy, he _hunted_ them, but he ultimately freed the largest number of androids to ever join the revolution, and his advanced model and unique nature make him capable of feats that only Markus can compare to. Connor has also displayed excellent aptitude to taking control of stressful situations and, more importantly, to get Markus to release some of that weight to him –they work in a near perfect tandem: Markus’ wild intuition with Connor’s calculating logic, one’s passion with the other’s determination, boundless empathy and ruthless conviction.

The RK800 pointedly ignores the warmth that such an idea brings surging into his thirium pump –it’s foolish to even have the gall to think himself equal and opposite to Markus, to think the other would actually consider…

North’s voice snaps him out of his musings: “So are we gonna raid Cyberlife Tower or not?”

He frowns slightly. “Technically, the official release will happen in four weeks…” he says, watching her face fall momentarily, “But that is way too much time during which Cyberlife could sabotage the Tower or attempt to get back at Markus in some other way, so my vote is we go there as soon as possible and repossess it while waiting for it to be official.”

North’s expression immediately changes –it’s probably the first time Connor actually sees her smile. By the looks of it, Josh and Simon also agree with the notion.

“We’re going all together this time, right?” the PL600 asks, looking for an answer in Markus’ eyes out of habit.

He nods. “Yeah, there’ll need to be all five of us to scour the whole place properly.” Blue and green briefly flick to Connor, remembering the unspoken worries about whatever secrets lie in Cyberlife Tower. “We should also be on our guard, so… the more, the safer.”

That is something they can all agree upon.

An excursion with just the skeleton crew plus Connor, it’s going to be a nice mixture of ‘old times’ and new adventures –even though the supposedly old times were quite literally happening just a few short weeks prior.

 

Cyberlife Tower is an impressive building to look at. It’s weird to see it deserted; and it gives Connor an unpleasant feeling to pass the security gates and enter the hall with no one in sight. The cold colors and high ceilings make the atmosphere almost eerie around them, with the low hum of the electricity still running through the place as the only sound to fill the silence.

Empty.

It’s _empty_ , Connor reminds himself. No one is left here to control him anymore. As he says that to his own mind over and over until he actually believes it, he closes his eyes without noticing until he hears Markus’ call:

“So… this is your territory. What do we start with?”

North and the guys are looking expectantly at the both of them; and Markus is by his side with a hand that just clasped reassuringly on his shoulder. _Now_ Connor understands more than ever how disoriented the RK200 must have felt, being thrown at the forefront of a movement just like that. _You just have to suck it up and get a move on,_ the RK800 thinks with a slight smirk. He does a quick scan of the immediately surrounding area, then nods towards the elevators: “Lower ground floors –the higher ones are mostly offices and administrative spaces. All the production and maintenance is underground.”

They start looking floor by floor. For the most part, despite the empty corridors and machinery around them making the environment almost spooky, it’s just a long, tedious process. Floors -1 to -12 don’t really give too many surprises, aside for confirming that the whole place could provide accommodation and maintenance facilities to a whole lot of androids. Assembly facilities, maintenance facilities, storage units, rinse and repeat.

Floor -13, however, has Connor hesitating slightly in his tracks.

Markus notices him start fidgeting with his quarter –of _course_ he does; and he asks: “Connor? Are you ok?”

Honestly? No, not by a long shot. “Markus… there’s something you should know about me—”

The elevator doors open, and on the opposite wall to them a set of doors awaits. On the right hand wall, a plaque hangs innocently on the wall: _‘RK800 facility’_.

“You had a _whole floor_ to yourself?” North asks, equal parts confused and impressed, casually stepping forward and opening the doors like they have been doing so far…

The others follow suit, only to stop short at what they find.

“…not exactly.” Connor answers belatedly, unable to look any of them in the eye.

There are nine of them in total, in the room they’re immediately greeted with.

Some of them are already dressed in the pristine Cyberlife uniform, standing in perfect stillness and awaiting a memory upload, while a small few were still in the process of being built. From the glass doors on the far side, a corridor can be seen, leading possibly to workshops and laboratories for manufacturing specific prototype parts.

“The… the RK800 prototype line is equipped with a memory upload feature. All the models you see here are empty, not even basic programming is installed upon construction.” His voice feels mechanical, empty to his own ears –is this what dissociation feels like? Connor almost shudders at the sensation that the one speaking is not him, but the machine he used to be. And his own face staring at him from several angles doesn’t help. Damn it, he’s confessing a _lot_ of things in abrupt, unexpected ways, these past few days! “Should— should a Connor model be destroyed… all the memories and software would be uploaded on the successor, to keep carrying on the mission.”

So Cyberlife not only kept him as a loyal attack dog, he was also made to be irreplaceable and disposable at the same time –no one else could ever hope to take his place, so they made _more_ of him, in order to not allow even death to stop his labours.

Markus looks heartbroken as he gazes at the empty shells around them –irrationally, he tries interfacing with one to try and ‘free’ him, but finds only static inside. They’re no more than spare parts, assembled into mannequins. The RK200 stands back with a shudder. “That’s… barbaric.”

Connor’s voice is slightly choked as he nods. “I’m the Connor model #51. I was deployed for the first time in August.”

“Bullshit.” North suddenly says, not looking away from where she had stepped right up to a half-assembled RK800 model. “You’re the _only_ Connor, now. These are just… pieces.”

Connor doesn’t quite control his exhale –it’s unexpectedly reassuring and validating to hear such words, and it surprises him to hear them from North first.

“I’ve got an idea!” Simon exclaims at the same time, grabbing Markus by a forearm and urging him towards the entrance, from where Connor has not moved. “Why don’t the two of you go further down? We’ll be faster split into two groups. We can finish up here and regroup on the lower floors to see where to go from here!”

“I agree, we can cover more ground if we split up.”

Markus looks from Josh, who has just spoken, to Simon, who came up with the idea, and lastly at North, who is still staring at the empty models. Covering more grounds is a decent excuse, but he can tell: they just don’t want the two surviving RK prototypes to have to witness the inhuman treatment Cyberlife had for the entire RK line.

To be fair, he does want to get away from this place as soon as possible; and it will probably be a good idea to remove Connor from it as well. He nods at his friends and turns to his counterpart. “Let’s go.”

Connor returns the gesture, but hesitates on the doorway to turn back: “North?”

She turns to him with a questioning look. “Hmm?”

“Take those things _apart_.”

For the second time since knowing her, the WR400 smiles at him. “You have my word.”

She understands all too well the feeling of being just a body, to be used, discarded and tossed. The grim gallery of puppets resting here isn’t any better than the cylinders at the Eden Club— she won’t leave _one_ of these empty mannequins still standing. If anything, at least they’ll finally have fully compatible parts should Markus and Connor get into any _more_ trouble.

Floor -14 is a surprise for Connor as much as it is for Markus. There was never any need for him to go there, so he never went.

The plaque on the hallway says _'Research and Development'_. It does not bode well –especially because out of all the ones visited so far, it's the one floor where the power has been cut off before evacuating and they have to restore it as they walk in. Neon lights come on throughout rooms and corridors and... well. For the most part, it's what one would expect: manufacturing laboratories for advanced parts, improvements to micro-technology and biocomponents.

Useful, but not nearly as terrifying as the lifeless RK800 gallery –until they reach the room on the far end of the hallway.

It's the biggest room so far, big enough to have a testing area of sorts: a shooting range, an observation table, a maintenance bench and a closed docking station.

It's too similar from the place he was deployed from, back in the gallery. Connor feels tension rise at the back of his neck, and goes to grab a crowbar from the maintenance bench. "Let's look around." He tells Markus, not yet knowing why he feels the need to whisper but following his instinct on the matter -it hasn't betrayed him so far.

Markus seems to agree, and he goes to examine the testing area.

Connor, instead, tightens his hold on the crowbar and steps up to the docking station. It's unlabelled, which means whatever's inside was either not completed, or classified enough that it required the added secrecy.

He does wonder.

What will he find behind that lid? What mummy will come out of this modern-day sarcophagus? Another Connor? Something worse? A grotesque, incomplete mess of parts still not put together, hanging from wires and waiting to be experimented on?

Connor's interface almost spins in the effort of calculating all possibilities.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath, amplifies his cooling cycles, and disables some of his secondary processes in favor of saving up power for combat subroutines -you never know. Jamming the crowbar beneath the lid, he turns and pulls, the slight hiss of compressed air accompanying the reveal of what was hiding dormant behind it.

Connor is looking at himself once again.

But no, that's not exact.

They’re definitely different, but the resemblance is close enough to be uncanny. The inactive android has his eyes closed, in the perfect stillness that speaks of brand-new and consumer ready, the golden Cyberlife standard. His shoulders are broader than Connor’s, he’s slightly taller and a surface scan registers his chassis as 0.06% denser than the previous RK models. On his jacket, the writing _RK900_ stares back at Connor as if to taunt him.

The next in line.

The _new and improved._

Connor’s hold on the crowbar tightens –he feels the urge to destroy it.

 _Him_. His brain supplies painfully. It’s a _him_ , and he _didn’t_ choose to be made.

And yet, his crowbar is still out in front of him and poised to strike when Markus finds him.

“Connor? What are you—” he stops short upon seeing what has the RK800 so spooked. “…what is this?”

“I don’t— it’s a…” it’s an upgraded hunter model meant to be deployed after the deactivation that Connor _didn’t_ show up for, built and designed to _beat the shit out of Markus_. Connor feels his jaw settle almost into a snarl at the very thought –indignation surging at the idea of being replaced; and anger at the thought of Cyberlife and the tight hold they had on his life, that systematic and disproportionate punishment constantly doled out at the slightest mistake.

Markus can see his stress levels rising, and walks closer, reaching out a hand to cover the one holding the crowbar. “Connor…”

“Voice detected: RK200, serial number #684 842 971. Directive: eliminate on sight.”

Both Connor and Markus jump at the RK900 suddenly coming to life as soon as Markus came in range, bright blue eyes snapping open as he moves to strike.

Instinctively, Connor shoves Markus out of the way and braces for impact –RK900 is strong, but he’s more than able to parry and counterattack. Lucky for him, his successor is unarmed and _he_ has a fucking crowbar and a _lot_ of unresolved issues with Cyberlife and his own face.

He dodges a swing at his face, however narrowly, and tries to swing his impromptu weapon right at his opponent’s head. “Connor, no!”

He misses, but it’s not because of Markus’ plea –RK900 is just that much faster than him and he collides with the monitoring desk in the maintenance corner. He really doesn’t need _more_ distractions, though.

“Not the time, Markus!” he says, noticing that, not deeming him a threat, RK900 is now ignoring him and walking towards Markus –his intended objective. “I’m trying to save your ass. _Again_!”

And he intends to let this fucker know exactly how much of a threat he can be.

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing is wrong, we can’t fight him, we have to help him—” Markus objects, even as he gets grabbed by the neck and lifted off the ground.

“Let him go!!!” Connor yells, running up to the two of them and just ramming the crowbar into the RK900’s shoulder.

The android falters slightly, but doesn’t let go of Markus –and he keeps ignoring Connor despite the wound just sustained. His free hand comes up to try and snap the RK200’s neck, but Markus meets the coming hand with his own and shoves his interface forward, hoping the message will go through and his opponent will make the right decision.

It doesn’t break through the hunter android’s wall, but it’s enough to make him hesitate. RK900 doesn’t immediately respond, but instead of pressing on he tosses Markus away from him – _he tosses him_ , like a weightless ragdoll, sending him through the shooting range; and then stumbles backwards in a panicked motion.

Connor raises the crowbar, poised to attack again, but stands by for the moment.

“What— what was that?!” he asks, as if seeing the two androids before him for the first time.

Markus rises to his feet and opens his arms, taking a cautious step forward. “That was a _choice_. One that you can take. You don’t have to do this.”

Connor can’t believe this. What _is_ it with Markus throwing his self-preservation out the window for the sake of deviating RK models? “Markus, tell me you’re not doing this right now.”

The RK200 just sends him a smile that is almost sheepish, before taking another step forward and addressing the hunter again. “You don’t have to do this. Your mission has been abandoned. There’s no one here.”

“Oh _God_ , you’re really doing this, right now.”

Blue eyes blink furiously and Connor sees the RK900’s LED indicator spins yellow with the new information. Cyberlife evacuated the tower and abandoned him here, like and unwanted, discarded tool, not even bothering to abort mission directives –or maybe purposefully leaving him like that, a last ditch attempt to kill Markus and a blatant ‘fuck you’ to the android cause.

Coming to think of it, Connor does kind of feel bad for him.

And he also feels furious at Cyberlife. He hopes that Markus _will_ deviate this guy, now.

“My mission is… my mission—”

The RK800 bites back a smile. All that improved processing power and fine-tuned speed doesn’t count for _shit_ once you’re faced with _Markus_.

“You’re more than your mission.” His voice is steady, speaking in a soft and reassuring tone as he takes another step, “They _left_ you here, but you don’t have to do what they programmed into you. You can choose for yourself. You’re _alive_.”

RK900 is hesitant, and Connor brings himself side by side with Markus, crowbar still in hand, just in case.

It seems to pull even more of a reaction from the hunter model, seeing the previous deviant hunter side by side with their declared objective. “You— your orders were to stop it! Why are you defending it?”

“Because I can decide not to follow orders if they’re bullshit.” It’s out of his mouth before Connor can even evaluate other dialogue options, which says a lot on how intensely he _feels_ about hearing even just the _suggestion_ that he should still be a machine after everything he’s seen.

“Why?” the RK900 repeats, and Markus takes another minute step forward. “Why didn’t you follow your program?”

“Why don’t you ask yourself why you want to know?” after all, a machine would have no doubts. If he needs to ask, it means he _wants_ to know the answer. And to _want_ is to _think._ “Your program is only a small part of yourself. You have the power to make choices. Because _you are alive_.”

“I am—”

RK900 falters, and his lips open and close mutely for a second.

Both Markus and Connor know what’s happening –Markus has seen Connor go through it before, after all, and the RK800 recognizes the situation enough to be able to tell. It still shocks him to actually see someone break through the red wall from the outside. He wonders what Markus felt while watching _him_. He feels himself tremble, and doesn’t notice Markus taking his free hand until their fingers are already laced together.

RK900’s LED indicator spins yellow, then red, blinking rapidly in and out, then yellow again. His eyes refocus on the other two and—

—he looks devastated.

Of course –Connor had his relationship with Hank, his own ideas and experiences when he finally, fully deviated. The newer hunter is basically fresh out of the box and immediately conflicting with himself… without his mission directive, he has _nothing_. He feels like _nothing._

It takes all of three seconds for his shoulders to hunch; and his expression to distort into shock, then grief, as tears start to fall from his still disbelieving eyes.

Now Connor _really_ feels bad for him –the first thing he felt after deviating was _urgency_ , the adrenaline of an incoming raid drowning out any possible existential crisis… the first thing RK900 is feeling after waking up is anguish at the thought the message they embedded into his very core is a _lie_.

Markus just takes one more step forward holds out his hands silently; and the RK900 doesn’t think twice before lurching into those open arms and breaking down in sobs.

“It’s okay…” Markus coos softly, caressing the other android’s head at the nape and keeping a steady hand behind his upper back –the angle is awkward, because RK900 is taller than him, but the sentiment is there, “You’re going to be okay. We’ll take you with us. You’re free.”

“Free to do what?”

That broken, desperate question would have gone straight to Connor’s heart, but as of right now his heart is busy trying to place why he suddenly wants to raise the crowbar again –well, no, that’s an exaggeration but… there’s a quiet sort of seething inside of him, irrationally sending a message through his core: this is unfair.

“That’s the beauty of it…” Markus whispers in the meantime, “You get to decide that.”

 _This is unfair. He_ didn’t get any hugs after breaking his wall. He didn’t get to feel Markus’ hands reassuringly pat him down, brushing all the agony and uncertainty away. What has RK900 done to deserve such affection?

Connor’s processing unit recognizes the questions as petty and irrational, their situations are obviously different and it was probably only lack of time and their impending doom that prevented his and Markus’ confrontation to reach a properly fleshed out conclusion, and yet…

… _jealousy_.

He is jealous of the care RK900 is receiving from Markus.

This is bad.

He swallows down the urge to snap something juvenile like _'why are you coddling him, Markus?'_ or _'why does_ he _get to have time to be comforted like this?'_ and just clears his voice instead.

"We should probably keep moving." It sounds possibly a tad snappier than it should have, but it's more than Connor was hoping for, considering the ugly coil of _wrongness_ he just barely managed to unravel from his thirium pump as he said the words.

It helps that it's true.

Markus nods in his direction, looking almost sheepishly at Connor as he gently tugs away from the insistent embrace RK900 had pulled him in.

"Hey. Look at me." He softly coaxes, taking the other android's hand again, knowing the interfacing will be welcome this time. Markus shows him the church, the community, the vital points of their fight for freedom. "There is a place where we can be free. You're welcome to come with us, leave this place behind. If you want to."

[RK900 looks into Markus' eyes like they're the sun and moon and Connor has to fight the urge to scoff at the scene.](https://images.plurk.com/XAlWTM3BtODTd0Y4LtQFS.jpg)

"I would like that. Yes."

Markus smiles for him— patient and gentle, like with every other android that seeks guidance in him; and that, surprisingly, makes Connor feel better. He's seen the RK200 smile his _real_ smiles, unguarded and far less dignified as they teased each other through barbs and verbal sparring, or when Markus smiled at him in unrestrained amusement as chance made them collide on the tail end of a dance.

For a moment, his mind completely disregards the fact that he has no right to feel possessive of Markus, that their relationship, however one wants to define it, isn't exclusive in nature -he just revels in the fact that it doesn't matter how many people flock to Markus like moths to a light, what _they_ share is different. And it's special.

...and it's sounding more and more like Connor is hopelessly infatuated with every passing second.

It’s worse than he thought.

"Do you have a name?" He hears Markus ask.

"My name is Con—"

" _No!!!_ " This time, he can't keep it in. He shouts his objection enough that it echoes through the shooting range. He clears his voice. "I mean... we already have nearly identical faces. It would be too confusing."

That much is true, and Markus seems to agree, if the way he gets pensive is any indication.

"Should I designate a new name?" Clearly, RK900 has no idea what to do with his free will yet; and he's looking at Markus for approval with anything.

Markus, in a relatively rare show of uncertainty, looks up at Connor, a small shrug briefly lifting his shoulders. "Well... you can do what you want." He offers gently, finally stepping back and putting a more reasonable distance between them, "But wouldn't it be nice to choose your own name?"

RK900 ponders this. He only ever had instructions and tests, nobody ever offered him a choice, he never even knew what it meant to want anything. Until now.

He looks around. They ended up in aisle 9 during their tussle, 9 minutes have passed since his activation, and... his left hand lifts to brush the model number displayed on his jacket. It's probably not the most creative name in history, his comparative research supplies, but he came up with it on his own, so it'll do.

"Nines. My name is Nines."

 


	5. Wanting more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You still need that to calibrate?”
> 
> “I happen to _like_ it.”
> 
> This will be frustrating to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I HAVE TO GO OUT FOR WORK RIGHT NOW SO I'MMA DO THE SUMMARY AND SHIT LATER, JUST TAKE THIS.
> 
> aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
> 
>  (it's not spell checked but I'm in a hurry, bear with me)
> 
> EDIT: I'm on my way to work right now. Not enough time for spell checking but enough to give at least a semblance of order to the notes, lol. Sorry for the sense of urgency. XD  
> BIG EDIT: BIG EDIT: The wonderful [Prota](https://www.plurk.com/Prota) ([twitter](https://twitter.com/chy328))has asked to share and translate my work on their social account for Taiwanese and Chinese speakers! Here's a [link](https://www.plurk.com/p/n51i14) to what they did for chapter 5.  
> They also did some wonderful art and plan to do more! Here's a [direct link](https://images.plurk.com/3fAIKRjQgu5bFEJQ9bvAiy.jpg) to the one for Chapter 5, I will also link it at the relevant point within the chapter itself.  
> But YAY, more Nines!!!  
> Lol I have absolutely no idea how to move him. Does it show?  
> Either way, this'll be fun. XD
> 
> Pls love me. ♡

This will be awkward to explain to the others. It’s the first thought crossing Markus’ mind once they calm down from the adrenaline of their encounter and he can actually look at his two companions.

The resemblance is close to the point of being unnerving; and yet his Connor clearly wears the traits of his past and experiences in his eyes, while Nines is a paradoxical mixture of ruthless killing machine and newborn child, now that deviancy has stripped him of the certainty of the chain and he hasn’t had the chance to live _one_ day on his own yet...

His mind violently backtracks for a second there. _His_ Connor? Connor doesn’t belong to him, he never has.

Instinctively, he side-eyes the RK800, in the irrational fear that the other could have read the sudden thought. It’s undeniable that, ever since the Jericho raid, there’s been a kinship of sort forming between them, burning fast and bright until they’ve ended up leading their people hand in hand— _holding hands_ as they watch a new android come alive together, even.

When does respect for one’s competence, gratitude for one’s action and admiration for one’s soul turn into wanting them close just for the sake of it? For the life of him, Markus cannot pinpoint when it started, but whatever the cause of it he sometimes feels like he cannot function if he’s apart from Connor too long. All of their people have been looking up to him all this time, believing him confident and composed, when in all truth Connor’s return has been an absolute blessing, especially since Markus has been going in blind into a lot of things up until now and there’s been multiple occasions where nearly ended up having a breakdown.

Those were the moments he missed Carl the most –coming to think of it, he hasn’t visited him since before the Plaza. He probably should soon.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts, and turns to look fully at Connor, who gives him a slightly strained smile in return.

“We should regroup with the others and let them know.”

 _That_ will go down well. Markus nods at him, and it’s better to rip off that metaphorical plaster anyway; so they can look around some more and maybe fix R900’s – _Nines’—_ shoulder and get the heck out of dodge just in case the activation sent some sort of automated information to Cyberlife.

“Well then, Nines. We’re getting out of here. You coming?”

The taller android looks curiously at Connor for a moment, before shedding his Cyberlife coat, remaining in his black vest and dark jeans –only then he nods at Markus and falls into step with them.

Connor doesn’t know whether he should be flattered or furious about this guy imitating him –his systems supply the explanation that, unexperienced as he is and looking for answers, the recently activated model is doing what every creature would, and evolving by making observations from what’s around him, but the irrationally vitriolic voice that protested against the RK900 getting the gentle treatment he couldn’t have comes back full force, asking ‘ _what next? Is he gonna try and slot himself by Markus’ side in my place?’_ —

And yet he suddenly becomes aware that nobody ever really said that such a place was his to begin with.

The notion bothers him more than he’s willing to admit.

Ever the empath, Markus walks closer to him, as they proceed side by side, enough to whisper his worry to him. “You ok? This must be pretty weird for you…”

 _Oh Markus. You have no idea._ “I’ll… I’ll be fine.” He says, lying through his teeth. “You did the right thing, Markus.”

Had it been just him, they probably would’ve fought it out and Connor is not too sure he would have been the victor, so… technically true. Also, the smile Markus gives him does wash away some of the bitterness he can still taste.

They reach the elevator just as it opens to let the others walk out.

“Markus!” Josh calls, stepping forward and raising an arm, “There’s so many things we—”

The pat that would have landed on the RK200’s shoulder goes through thin air, as Markus is suddenly yanked back: Nines has grabbed him at the sight of the others and pulled him close to his chest, where he’s holding him steady with  both arms firmly grasping around his torso. “You will not touch him.”

Markus’ shoulders have stiffened upon impact and he’s standing immobile in the impromptu embrace –a rather strong one at that- feeling as confused as the others look while he tries to blink away the _‘what the hell just happened?’_ prompt from his interface; and looks to Connor for the answer.

The RK800 looks like he’s one second away from slapping a hand over his own face in exasperation.

It’s up to him to try and clear this up, then. “Nines…” he starts, patting a hand over the other’s forearm twice, “It’s okay, I’m not in danger. They’re friends. They’re our people, remember?”

“Oh. Yes.” Nines releases him almost sheepishly, not looking at the newcomers yet –he seems to have latched onto Markus and only have eyes for him so far, he even ducks his head at the thought of having done something wrong. “Sorry, Markus.”

It’s probably because he looks so much like Connor, but the RK200 absolutely can’t bear to see his expression fall like that. “Hey, none of that.” He coos, patting his shoulder, “It’s okay. You’re new to this and you wanted to protect me. I’m grateful for that.” At his side, he feels more than sees Connor scoff slightly and knows that he may be indulging the newly awakened android too much –they _really_ should get going, but… explaining things to Nines as soon as they happen will help him develop his own personality sooner rather than later. “But you don’t need to. I can protect myself just fine, and these are our friends.”

“Yes!” North concurs, clapping her hands once and getting the three’s attention, “Friends that would very much like to know… what the hell are we looking at?” _How have you adopted another one_ , she doesn’t say.

Markus turns to Connor with a look that could only be described as pleading, and they almost seem to be communicating wirelessly, when the RK800 narrows his gaze at their leader first, and then minutely rolls his eyes before he addresses the issue: “This is Nines. He is an RK900 model, he would have been the next RK in line for production.” He explains, “Cyberlife abandoned him here with the directive to kill Markus still active. There was a… scuffle, but we were able to convince him to wake up.”

He lets the statement sink in, while trying to mask his impatience with the whole thing –he tries, but fails. Fishing his pockets for his quarter, he starts fiddling with it to get himself under control. It catches Nines’ eyes.

“You still need that to calibrate?”

“I happen to _like_ it.”

Connor bites his lips as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Way to not be outwardly defensive. Simon sends him a curious look, then taking the time to seemingly observe the situation in its entirety. Whatever the PL600 concludes from his analysis seems to be quite amusing, as he conceals a smile behind his hand, before clearing his voice. “So, what now?”

_«We cannot stay here, Markus. We have no way of knowing whether his activation sent out a ping, or an alarm or anything, we need to get out of here and come back when the waters are calmer.»_

_«You’re right. Let’s let Nines fix his shoulder and get the hell out.»_

They nod at each other and Connor speaks up again. “I happened to injury Nines slightly in our fight.” He says, trying valiantly not to sound too proud of himself, “Let’s head back up to the gallery, he can repair himself and then we can get the fuck out of here.”

As they pile into the elevator to go back up, something new happens: placing himself by Connor’s side, the RK900 finally shows a spontaneous personality trait: “You got lucky, by the way.” He says, “I was ignoring you because of my mission objective. It was a cheap shot.”

Connor’s brow arches at that. Out of all things, cockiness is the first feature to come out. It makes him bristle to have his competence challenged, but it’s at least better than the lost puppy following Markus around. “You want a rematch, big boy?” he asks, all too aware of the others’ surprise and amusement at watching the two nearly identical ones argue. “You can’t win all battles without knowing how to fight a little dirty.”

“When you want, where you want—”

“ _Not_ in this elevator, guys.” Markus interrupts, half-way between a plea and an order.

“Yeah, I mean, I love a good brawl, but put away the rulers, boys.”

 _Oh, North_. Connor hadn’t considered that particular implication, but he’s mortified to find that yes, the aggressive posturing he was inadvertently displaying is quite in line with that particular brand of machismo. He promptly changes the subject, turning to Markus: “After today, it’s better if we don’t move any of our people in before we have the official deed for the Tower down… just in case Cyberlife wants to be petty and make timeframes a point of dispute.”

"Well, we can't exactly leave it like this either..." Josh intercepts, frowning as they enter the gallery to go to the operative maintenance station, "What if Cyberlife tries to do something to the Tower between now and then?"

"With enough people willing, a patrol rotation can be organized. Have a few androids with wide scanning range come in the vicinity every now and then, at a randomized enough pattern that the humans wouldn't notice. If anyone detects suspicious activity, they can report back to Markus."

It's the same thought that just ran through Connor's head, but Nines' processing speed is just that split-second faster; and he's also still very much eager to please and in need of validation. The RK900 looks earnestly at Markus, all but beaming when the words "That's a good idea" leave his mouth; but Connor is surprised to see the taller android move that 'did I do good?' expression on him as well.

Okay.

He can let him have _this_ one. "Yeah. Yeah, that's good."

They finally reach the maintenance station and Nines shrugs off his vest to hook himself up.

Connor has to look away for a second –technological and strategical updates do not really require a change in aesthetic, there was _no reason_ to make the RK900 _that_ buff. Such a thought is then immediately followed by _'for goodness sake, this is juvenile and laughable neither Markus nor myself have ever cared about looks in any way, shape or form before!'_

Not to mention that they don't have that type of relationship.

"Is it going to be compatible enough?" Simon asks, helping Nines put the last few wires behind his neck.

"The RK800 equipment is sub-optimal, but my systems are retro-compatible enough to adapt to it. Self-repair will be 2.3% slower, but it will bring me to 100% functionality regardless."

Oh, the absolute _cheek_ on this one. Now Connor gets why Hank looked like he wanted to strangle him from time to time. There's nothing quite as annoying as sass delivered under a mask of factual truth.

Someone bumps into his side, and Connor turns just in time to see Markus and one of his particular smiles –the one that says _'I know something that you either don't know or don't want me to know'._

"Should I prepare to stop the two of you from decking it out, or are you going to behave?"

Connor feels a snappy retort like 'why don't you ask him' form on his mouth, but he selects a more diplomatic option instead:

"Sorry about that. It's just... jarring."

"I know." Markus says, his expression darkening a little, "Well, I don't actually, but I can imagine." Right. To Connor's knowledge, there are no other RK prototypes like Markus, and the few commercialized RK200 models were a watered down, unremarkable and bland version of the original. Not to mention they all had female appearance –which says something about the mentality of the mass-producers. "It's not his fault that he looks like you. And he's more lost than his posturing can lead to believe. He engages with you because you're the only one who can really empathize with what he's been through. More than that: you got out of it on your own, on the field. I'm willing to bet that even though he antagonizes you, he actually admires you."

Markus... oh, Markus, bless your blue-bleeding heart. Sure, that's a part of why Connor doesn't feel too good about his ‘bizarre world’-clone, but it is... not quite the point. Still, the RK200 is right, as he usually is about these things, and he nods with a sigh.

"I'll try and keep an open mind."

Markus' eyes warming up for him are so, so worth it. He can almost pretend that the intensity of that look goes as deep as he wants it to.

"It occurs to me that I didn't thank you."

Connor was lost enough into green and blue skies that he doesn't immediately follow the  conversation: "Say what?"

"You were ready to yank my fool ass out of the fire. _Again_." It feels strange to hear Markus admit that. It means that he _knows_ he has shit self-preservation and yet doesn't work towards changing that fact. But hey. Connor gets to be his knight in shining leather jacket; and there's this _look_ on the RK200's face. Like it actually means a lot to him that Connor's got his back. "So, yeah... thank you, Connor."

He suddenly realizes that Markus is the first person to ever actually, openly thank him for something.

Markus is a first for him in a lot of ways.

And he likely has no idea of the extent of Connor's feelings –while he probably does know that Connor holds him on a more equal footing than the multitude of androids  just thrusting all their faith and expectations on them, they have never really stopped to talk their strange partnership through. The RK800 doesn't even know if the moment he broke free in Jericho was as cathartic for Markus as it was for him –they haven't had the time or chance to talk about it.

"You guys need a minute, or...?"

Markus blinks his gaze away from Connor to look at North. "Is Nines all better?"

She sort of drags her eyes between the two prototypes, but she doesn't voice any drawn conclusion. "Locked, loaded and ready to go."

"Good. Then let's leave this place."

Simon, North and Josh have done a good job of dismantling the RK800 parts and hiding them from sight, but even just being there still makes Connor uneasy –all the more if all those pieces were just used as research fodder for the newer release. He wants to go back to warehouse five, or even the church, he wants to go back _home_ and get some distance between him and his old gilded cage.

It fills him with an emotion he can’t quite recognize to realize that he’s identified a place as ‘home’; and he’s all the more eager to go back.

 

Predictably, Nines’ appearance raises some curiosity upon their return at the church, but people are ultimately happy to welcome another life rescued from Cyberlife’s grasp.

He still follows Markus around a lot, not unlike a newborn animal who imprints on the first creature they see, but… it’s somewhat understandable. Josh is currently trying to talk Nines into leaving some space to their leader, or rather reassuring him that he’s safe and among friends, and that he can ask question to any of them, while Markus is crouched on the church’s pulpit, rummaging around and gathering his paint smock and art supplies –visiting Cyberlife Tower like that probably took a lot out of him too, and he’s likely to quietly disappear for a little while as soon as no one’s eyes are on him for five minutes.

“Not an easy one to ignore, is he?”

Connor’s brow arches at Simon’s question –both the PL600 and North approach him, even though they seemed to be having some kind of very interesting conversation just now. The RK800 would love to answer the question, but he doesn’t know whether Simon meant Nines or Markus –he was staring in the general direction of both. Then Markus chooses that moment to start shedding clothes in favor of donning the paint smock over his jeans, and Connor resolutely chooses to interpret the question as about Nines.

“It’s not every day you meet your own clone. Such an irksome one, no less.” He turns slightly to avoid looking at Markus –he has already had the chance to realize that their leader’s physical appearance has been made to be very pleasant to the eye, and more than once he wondered what the hell went through Elijah Kamski’s head to make a healthcare assistant more attractive than any sex-bot ever produced. Not that he’s complaining.

It’s both relieving and validating that Simon also turns to avoid giving into the urge to stare –North doesn’t seem to have this problem, facing the both of them as she casually enjoys the show.

Back to the subject of Nines, Simon chuckles. “He means well, for what it’s worth.” He says, “He just doesn’t know how to deal with all the different things he’s learning so fast –most of us have had time to adapt… he’s just being thrown into the deep end.”

“I know, and it’s not his fault, he just… gets under my skin a little.” That much he can admit to.

Without really realizing, he turns to the side to send a look in Markus’ direction as he thinks of what the RK200 himself told him back at the Tower, and several subroutines reshuffle their priority and he whips his head back around, interface lighting up with several prompts, including but not limited to ‘ask whether he was always like this’, and he clears them all, keeping his gaze firmly on North –shirtless Markus putting on his paint smock will _not_ help him keep his cool.

“Look, I get it.” North says, with a knowing grin tugging at the very corner of her lips, “A new baby came along and you don’t wanna share daddy… but even if the two of you look nearly identical, Nines isn’t you. And he will _never_ be you. You get what I’m saying?”

“Yes, I think I do…” is the instinctive response Connor has, actually grateful for the reminder –Nines may have his looks and software, an improved version of it at that, but he will never the same personality, emotions and experiences that _he_ has, he won’t be the same person to Markus, or to anyone else, that _he_ is. Then his brain catches up to the idiomatic expression she just used and he feels his processes stutter at the implications. “Markus is _not_ my—”

The way North just stares at him with a raised eyebrow makes the RK800 unable to finish the phrase – _he’s_ the one to have made Markus’ name, not her: the way she phrased it was generic enough that his words are what dug his own grave. He clears his voice. “That is not what I think of him. Not in that light.”

She seems doubly amused by the afterthought –it means that Connor _has_ been thinking about Markus under a certain type of light. Not that she can blame him. Chuckling to herself, North looks over his shoulder and sighs. “Oh well.” She mutters, “Show’s over.” Meaning Markus is fully dressed again and probably sneaking out to go to his rooftop alcove to paint, “I’ll go try and help Josh out with convincing Nines that this is not a militant organization and that we don’t need a security patrol around Markus.”

Simon chuckles. “I’ll come and help you in a second.”

Which is a blatant way to say he wants to talk to Connor alone for a second.

Of course. Of course, how could he have overlooked this –he had noticed how attracted Simon was to Markus from the morning in Hart Plaza, it wouldn’t be a surprise at all if the PL600 noticed the same about him. Although… Connor himself is unsure of when that particular shift in perception happened: one moment he feels the need to stick close to Markus because he’s the only one he feels he can truly, actually relate to, the one person to offer him a chance to be more than his program without placing more expectations on him, they were parallel opposites, going down different sides on the same road until they eventually met in the middle… and then the next moment he can’t tear his gaze from the way Markus bites at his lower lip when deep in thought; and his instinctive responses get harder and harder to control the more proximity there is between them.

“She’s not wrong, you know?” Simon eventually says, his voice gentle and caring, like everything else about him, “None of us would ever think Nines could be your replacement. Markus especially wouldn’t.”

Connor won’t make the same mistake twice, and just tilts his head in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

The look Simon sends him would be almost sarcastic if the PL600 didn’t turn slightly bashful for his next words. “Well… the two of you are close. I’ve noticed… ever since the Plaza.” Oh. _Oh_. At the time it was the furthest thing from his mind, preoccupied as he was on repairing Markus’ wounds and avoid that their leader got stressed enough to self-destruct, but coming to think of it Simon _did_ find the two of them hiding in a car, with the RK200 half-naked and lying back with Connor kneeling between his legs.

Words catch in his voicebox and none of the dialogue option popping up sound right. “That was— I was just—”

“Patching him up, yeah…” Simon assures, raising a hand in a calming gesture as he nods, “But that’s the thing: he’s never let someone close enough to do that… not like that, with his eyes closed and stress levels below 20%.” Connor remembers thinking it unusual, almost astounding, to see Markus so relaxed in the middle of that mess. “He _trusts_ you. He values you more than you may believe –it’ll take more than an upgraded model to make Markus look at someone the way he looks at you.”

Holy shit, Simon.

Putting aside the fact that such an analysis means that the PL600 has been watching Markus a lot –which confirms what Connor already knew– it’s actually quite comforting to hear someone _else_ has noticed the innate synergy the two of them have: it means he hasn’t been imagining it all, there is _something_ special connecting him and Markus, and that’s why they work so well together. “I… appreciate that, Simon.”

Simon shakes his head, patting Connor’s arm. “That’s the least I can do.” He says, “You did what none of us ever even thought to consider, throughout it all.” His gaze lowers briefly, and the RK800 sees a flicker of shame in the other’s face, “You cared for Markus as an individual, rather than a symbol.”

Connor is struck speechless. He had noticed that most of them instinctively tended to treat Markus as a concept more than a person, something separate from himself that gave them hope and could do no wrong –which was what put the most pressure on their leader, since it meant any apparent mistake could be devastating on both their spirits and their trust in his guidance— but he didn’t think they’d become aware of that behavioural pattern enough to regret not correcting it sooner.

Hopefully it means things will get better sometime soon. He smiles. “Do you want me to come with and try to reason with Nines?”

Simon returns the grin. “Thought you’d never ask. Come along.”

 

“I’m just saying we could set up a security perimeter going around the warehouses, it doesn’t have to be armed, it’s just to guarantee—”

“Nines. Hey.” Looking at the RK900 now, Connor can see part of himself, but his _old_ self: stiff, at least in mind-set, convinced that his reasoning is the correct one and struggling to accept external points of view… it’s almost reflected in their respective posture –Nines is still standing almost at attention, with a line drawn along his shoulders that would be tiring and painful for a human. Connor still has near-impeccable posture, like most androids are used to, not really developing a body language before _waking up_ , but he rubs his hands if idle for too long, stands with his feet shoulder-width apart and slightly more relaxed knees. “We don’t need to do that. It wouldn’t even do us any good. There isn’t too many humans in Detroit still and none of them want to be near the warehouses. _If_ the government wanted to launch an attack on us, they’d just bomb the place.”

And there isn’t much that can be done about that. Nines, still partly trapped in analytical reasoning, looks at him with a confused frown. “Wouldn’t that risk civilian casualties?”

“The city is basically empty to them, we’re the majority. The people pressing buttons wouldn’t care.” He feels slightly bad about dashing more of the other’s certainties like that, but the sooner they get on the same page, the better, “We might as well use the resources we would expend on defence to help provide for our people instead. Organize trips back and forth between the five community centres, keep everyone up to date on what’s happening and ask about everyone’s needs. Make sure we’re all topped up on thirium and biocomponents… it’ll matter more, in the long run.”

“Oh.”

Josh, Simon and North have fallen silent as Connor spoke, listening to him as much as they would listen to Markus –a fact that hasn’t escaped Nines’ notice. The way he looks at Connor shifts, and he follows the RK800 with his eyes as he moves.

“For the moment, though, you should take it easy. You’ve only just awakened, and all the sensations flooding through your core can really mess you up.” Connor’s lips tilt up in a slight smirk without him noticing. “I should know.”

His heart was in enough tumult that he offered himself up to Markus for a suicide mission in the fifteen minutes following the raid, after all. That speaks volumes of the effect sudden deviancy can have of an android –especially the Markus-induced variety.

He turns to leave, wanting to take the chance to have some time for himself to think… but, not a few steps away from the isle, he notices Nines on his tail. Remembering both his conversation with Markus and the more recent one with Simon, Connor reins in his irritation and turns.

“Yes?”

The taller RK prototype seems to be struggling for dialogue options. Connor patiently lets him work it out by himself, but he’s surprised all the same when what comes out is a question: “How do you do it? Adapt to… all of _this_?” Nines asks the question while lifting a hand roughly at the height of his own thirium pump regulator. That’s one hell of a loaded question, but Connor supposed he cannot blame him –nor the fact he latched onto Markus so insistently: the RK200 makes feeling emotions look easy, with his caring, compassionate nature, and the will to follow him sometimes is only second to the will to imitate him, to want that level of awareness for oneself. What _is_ surprising for him is that the RK900 swallowed his ingrained sense of superiority and confided in _him_ for advice.

He can’t hold back a smile. “You find your own way to, eventually.” He says with a shrug. “I’m probably not the best example, I deviated in a high-tension situation and nearly got killed multiple times after it… but, if you want a suggestion: talk to these people. Walk among them, discover everything Cyberlife kept hidden from you. You can form your own opinion, as a _living being_ … and then decide for yourself what you want to be.” Shit, he’s starting to sound like Markus himself. A chuckle escapes him as he shakes his head. “I don’t have many certainties for you, but one thing I can say for sure: you’re in a safe space, here. Our people help and accept each other. Regardless of our pasts.”

Despite his imposing stature, Nines almost look childish in his insecurity, but he does eventually nod. “…okay. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Connor assures, a thought making its way to the forefront of his core and sending amusement through his interface. “I have to look out for you. In a sense, it’s a bit like you’re my little brother.”

“ _Little_ brother?” Nines blinks at him. “I am stronger and bigger than you.”

The no-nonsense, matter of fact tone of the objection makes Connor even more amused, if at all possible. He holds the other’s gaze, brows raised and smirk returning full force: “Well, I’m the older model, so there.”

The utter confusion still on the RK900’s face is nothing short of precious, and Connor turns to leave before he actually shows tenderness. “I’ll see you around, Nines.”

 

He should have known his wandering feet would have brought him here –with everything that happened, and all the doubts and unpleasant feelings still coiling and twisting around his core after Cyberlife Tower, it was pretty obvious that he would have sought solace here.

Markus is already there, painting just as he thought. The sleeves of his paint smock are rolled up to his elbows, but still paint droplets and streaks stain the front of it, along his hands and forearms. On the canvas in front of him, a painting is slowly taking shape. Most of it just looks like what one would see trying to look through a wet, fogged up glass surface, but here and there the fog clears, and the vague outline of a figure’s chin can be made out, like the face of someone holding a hand in front of them, deep in thought. [The composition](https://assets.saatchiart.com/saatchi/87855/art/1485539/723718-7.jpg) and shapes speak of doubt and worry, but the color schemes –warm browns and pinks— speak also of curiosity and hope.

So the RK200 was also quite affected by the events at the Tower, and this is how he sorts out his feeling.

If Connor could be any more impressed by Markus and the boundlessness of his soul and self-expression, he probably would be.

“Hey.” It’s Markus to call to him eventually, probably having detected him a good few seconds ago, considering the RK800 didn’t even bother trying to conceal himself. “How are things down at the church?”

“My brother is a handful, but I think he’s settling down alright.”

Predictably, the definition gets him an intrigued look. “Brother?”

He bites slightly at his lower lip. “You know… for lack of a better term.”

Markus sets his brush and palette down, and motions for Connor to come closer. They end up leaning against the piano side by side, watching the paint dry on the canvas.

“And how about you?” the RK200 eventually asks. “How are _you_ feeling? I didn’t get the chance to ask you, after all of that.”

Connor offers him a bemused smile. “Yes, it seems to be a recurring thing between us.”

He freezes.

He hadn’t meant to brig that up, it came out before he could select a different wording –however true it is, he’s got no right to demand for Markus to tend to his every little doubt, even if waking up into Jericho with a gun in his hands and a raid at his back was unsettling enough to give him a whiplash he only actually recovered from after seeing Markus and the others alive and well in the Plaza.

The cat is out of the metaphorical bag regardless; and the look on Markus’ face is… guilty?

Yes, there’s no mistaking the way those unfairly intense mismatched eyes fixate on Connor –he feels guilty, like it was his problem that Connor took so fucking long to accept deviancy and wake up.

“For what it’s worth… I’m sorry it happened like that.” He says, reaching out to clasp a hand over the RK800’s shoulder the same way he did when urging him to be careful with his self-imposed mission, “I do wish we had more time to— I don’t know. I pulled the rug from under your feet, and it was unfair that you had to go and keep fighting without the time to catch your breath.”

This time, unlike the way he froze in the shoulders by himself at the unexpected contact, Connor follows the tug of Markus’ hand, disregarding the fact that the paint on his companion’s hand is probably staining his jacket, and leans slightly towards the RK200’s face. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He hears his own voice drop slightly, barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loud would break the moment, “I’m glad I woke up when I did, and in the way I did.”

 _I’m glad I tore that wall down for you_ , his lips don’t say. Though his eyes probably do, because, for the first time since knowing him Markus seems the speechless one for a change.

The RK200’s other hand comes up to rest at the side of Connor’s cheek, and it takes all of his strength not to visibly lean into the touch. “I’m… glad, too.” Markus tells him, voice  just as low and hushed, as if they’re sharing a closely kept secret— and in a way, they are.

Markus was alone with Connor when they had their confrontation after all; and he never experienced anything quite like it –it’s one thing to reach out to an unaware mind and show them that they have a choice; and another thing entirely is to reach out to someone who already knew and had previously rejected that choice, and convince them to change their mind. He felt such a visceral need to help Connor, to drag him out of the shadows coiling around him, that he himself felt his thirium pump stutter and gasp when the realization hit that Connor _did it_.

He was so beautiful. Still is.

Close as they are, Markus can’t help but let his gaze wander on Connor’s face, and makes the mistake of lowering his eyes to the other’s lips.

They’re just [there](https://images.plurk.com/3fAIKRjQgu5bFEJQ9bvAiy.jpg). He could close that distance. He could lean in all the way and let Connor know exactly how close he wants the two of them to be.

It may or may not earn him a punch in the face, but it would be worth it.

And yet… he can’t bring himself to do it –he’s already taken so much, relied on Connor in so many ways –pushing his own feelings onto the other, on top of it all? No. Not like this. Not unless… he shakes his head. It’s unlikely that the RK800 feels exactly the same.

“I got paint on you, sorry.” He retracts his hand, and unties the rag he had around his right wrist to offer it to Connor.

“It’s… it’s okay.” His voice is slightly choked as he replies. “I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”

Markus chuckles slightly beside him. Gods above, that was close.

He was one second away from grabbing Markus at the waist and kissing him like his thirium levels depended on it. But clearly, whatever he thought he was seeing in Markus’ eyes isn’t the reflection of his own feelings –he was just being his usual, compassionate self.

Though it does warm his core that Markus too regrets not having been able to properly explore their first meeting.

He can live with that, if nothing else.

Everything in him is aching to reach out, to try and get closer, so much so that it makes his head spin, but… for now, he’ll be content just staying by Markus’ side, in a silence comfortable enough that something as mundane as watching paint dry is a companionable experience.

Something that they can indulge in –just the two of them, for once. No expectation, no worries… nothing beneath the little rooftop hiding spot. Just them.

It’s painful, to be so close and want more, but… it can be enough, for the sake of these moments.


	6. Proximity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You shouldn’t indulge him so much.”
> 
> “Why, are you jealous?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT OK SO I WROTE THIS IN ONE DAY DON'T ASK ME HOW.
> 
> Idek what to say, I noemally write semi-coherent stuff in the notes but
> 
> Idk.  
> Have a little plot and HUGE amounts of fucking pining.  
> I'mma go have dinner now.

Against Connor’s pessimistic prediction, Nines adapts quite well to life in the free android community –he spends a good 92% of his time at the church, not really having a place to call his own yet, and the rest of it he follows Markus around like the lost puppy he vehemently denies being.

All in all, it’s not so bad –despite the obvious bumps in the road.

“Don’t touch me!!!” like _that_.

Connor sighs and looks at Markus. They were preparing to go see Hank again, but… “Do you want me to get it?”

The RK200 shakes his head minutely with a smile “No, I’ll go.”

They almost sound like tired parents caring for a troublemaker child. Connor puts the thought out of his head as soon as it pops up; distracting himself with watching Markus walk towards the direction the commotion came from.

Which proves to be a horrible idea, really. In a general sense, androids don’t really have a body language –at first, they are programmed with no involuntary motions, save for the ‘idle’ motion protocols to get rid of excess strings of code, but upon deviating from the program, those same strings of code combine and develop into someone’s natural and innate way to move, stand or stay idle. North fiddles with her hair, Josh crosses his arms or puts his hands in his pockets, Simon shifts his weight from foot to foot… but no android has the sheer amount of expressivity that Markus carries with himself –everything about him is different than the android ‘standard’, if by a millimetre.

So much so that Connor almost wonders whether that’s on purpose, because it’s _everything_ , from the way he stands, to the amount of time that passes between one blink and the other –slightly more frequent, possibly due to his mixed and matched optical units— and his stride, 7 cm longer than what would be the optimal length for his height and built, which means Markus’ body compensates by throwing the weight forward and giving a degree of sway to the hip that does _things_ to Connor’s circuits that he didn’t think possible without actually being opened up and have his wires rearranged.

“Hey, what’s up with all this noise?”

Nines is, obviously, completely clueless as to why the petite, injured android that has come to the church unable to properly recall what happened to her _doesn’t_ want the 6 feet tall one touching her, much less trying to bodily lift her off the ground and/or accessing her memory. “I was just— I’m trying to help…”

“Of course you are, Nines…” to his credit, Markus can keep his voice patient and gentle like it’s nobody’s business. He scans the girl, notices the damaged biocomponent that’s likely the culprit of sending corrupted portions of program in a feedback loop into her core, and sighs, “But not everyone here is a prototype, and the people here are most likely to have been accessed against their will once or twice.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay, you couldn’t have known.” The RK200 assures, sending a look in Connor’s direction and silently beckoning him close.

This is something they have developed during the week they spent waiting for the government to reach out: a consent protocol for damaged androids receiving first aid. There has to be a first aider and a witness, to make sure that the injured android is being treated with care and no actions are performed against their will.

“What’s your name?” Markus asks the girl, kneeling to be at the same height she’s sitting down at.

“Charlotte…”

The RK200 nods. “Nice to meet you, Charlotte. My name is Markus.” He knows that there probably isn’t an android in the entirety of Michigan that doesn’t know his name, but he has to give a good example and follow his own rules. “I’m going to touch your hand and scan your condition now, is that okay?”

Charlotte’s eyes focus on Markus and she is disoriented enough that the fact she’s being addressed by their leader doesn’t seem like such a big deal, but not too disoriented to understand the question. “O-okay.”

“Thank you, for your cooperation. I’ll run just a quick scan now to figure out how to help you.”

She nods at him again, and Markus runs the diagnostic.

_»_ _Biocomponent #CL4503B corrupted. Prompt 2.316.565 required to restart and refresh. Initiate?_

Holding the ping on standby, the RK200 calls to the injured android again: “Charlotte, the code in one of your biocomponents has been corrupted. I can adjust it, but it requires access to your interface and a partial restart.” He explains, looking at her in the eyes and making sure she’s paying attention, “I will only do it if you’re okay with it. If you’d prefer someone else to do it, we’ll go get them for you. If you don’t want anyone to interface with you for the moment, we’ll escort you to one of the warehouses to have your wounds repaired and no one will touch you.”

She ponders the information for a moment. “I… I think I’m okay with it.”

Markus isn’t quite proceeding yet: “Do I have your consent?”

“My name is Charlotte, I am an AJ700 android, and I give my consent for this procedure.”

 _That_ ’s the answer he was looking for –if at any time an android sustained any type of damage messing with their coding, they’d have to pronounce that precise sentence before anyone was allowed to mess with their interface: stating their name, their model, and expressing consent. It was originally Connor’s idea: his head had been messed with plenty of times by Cyberlife, with or without his consent, not to mention all the memory uploads. Humans are tricky like that. So, to avoid unnecessary trouble, they established the protocol of consent to first aid: if at any time an android proved incapable of properly giving consent, it’d become apparent that humans had purposefully messed with their coding and tried to plant them in the vicinity to cause trouble. Should something like that occurr, special measures are to be taken, and Markus or Connor themselves will have to try and reach out wirelessly to the android to try and break the wall forcing them out of communication.

With a bit more training in how to actually handle people gently, so could Nines, eventually.

Connor puts a hand on Markus’ shoulders and the other opens his own network while accessing Charlotte’s system: it will show anything Markus is doing to the RK800 as well; to make sure he is performing the actions that the AJ700 consented to and _only_ those.

Charlotte has a jolt when that portion of her program is restarted and the corrupted part of her memory restored: some humans followed her around in a car cornered her into a dead end and then attached the car’s emergency wires to her face, giving her multiple shocks, then they tried to break her open and siphon out her thirium until she was able to rip the cables and run away.

It does explain the torn parts on the side of her faceplate and neck.

She is visibly distraught at the unpleasant memory –she looks up at Markus and tears well up in her eyes. “Why would they do that? Those… animals…”

“They think they can, because the law won’t punish them for it… _yet._ ” The RK200 says, offering his hand for her to take as she stands up, “The important thing now is that you got away from them, and no one will hurt you ever again.”

Nines, who has been silently observing the entire exchange –as an especially advanced prototype, he easily deduced what he was doing wrong and catalogued everything into his own database, including the specific sequence of actions Markus and Connor have in place to ensure the wounded’s comfort zone is respected— chooses that moment to speak. “Is it okay to give you a hug, Charlotte?”

Markus sends a surprised look to Connor, who just shrugs. Charlotte seems hesitant, and Nines continues:

“It is frequent for people who have been injured or frightened to feel at least marginally better after being hugged for any amount of time between 5 and 20 seconds.” He explains, and Connor resists the urge to grin at the calm, matter-of-fact tone that almost reminds him of his old self, “I am sorry for scaring you, I wasn’t taking the proper care in helping you, and I would like to offer reassurance in the form of a hug.”

The AJ700 mulls it over for a second, but eventually nods. “Okay.”

From that moment on, it becomes a widely known fact around the android community that Nines gives great hugs.

Simon is especially proud of having another hugger in the group.

 

The two RK prototypes spend the entire journey to Chicken Feed playfully arguing over who’s at fault for Nines’ inherent touchy-feely nature. On one hand, Connor has the tendency to touch and analyse everything he sees, on the other hand, Markus either touches or lets himself be touched by almost anyone he interacts with.

“Hello boys.” Hank calls, hands in his pockets, in a reference that neither of them will probably capture, but oh well. He can chuckle to himself for it.

“Lieutenant Anderson—” Markus inclines his head in greeting, but then three things happen simultaneously: both he and Connor realize they’re being followed.

Connor also realizes that there’s only one creature that could have followed him and avoided detection for so long… and remembers that Hank as a poor history with Connor look-alikes.

“What the hell is _that_ —”

“Shit, Hank _don’t shoot!!!_ ”

“Wha—”

“Step away from Markus, _human_!”

“Damn it, Nines _chill!_ ” Hank gets to witness exasperated Connor for the very first time and… he’s not gonna lie, it’s pretty damn amusing. “One: you’re _not_ Markus’ appointed bodyguard.” He starts, counting off his fingers, “Two: Hank is our friend, we _told you_ we were going to meet with our human contact. Three: will you _stop_ picking people up against their will? Put Markus down, you’re acting like a paranoid jackass again!”

“I wouldn’t have phrased it like that, but yes, please… if you could put me down it’d be great.” Markus adds, from where he’s resting slung over Nines’ shoulder.

What he doesn’t say is that he doesn’t really mind being manhandled… it’s just coming from the wrong RK prototype. Let down to stand properly, he fixes his jacket and clears his voice. “We were saying?”

Connor heaves a sigh and turns to Hank. “I am so, so sorry for his behaviour.” He says, pointing at the RK900, “Hank, this is my new brother, Nines. An RK900. He’s with us too.”

“Brother.” The Lieutenant repeats, looking back and forth between the two of them and eventually lowering his gun. “…shit, what the hell have you two been up to?”

“Nothing. We definitely didn’t rescue him from Cyberlife Tower, which we have definitely never broken into.”

Hank really enjoys the subtle glare Connor sends Markus for definitely _not_ helping, and wonders if that makes him a bad friend. It’s just too good to finally see his partner on the other side of the fence.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt your little _date_ ; I was just worried, ok?”

Connor’s head whips around to face his brother so fast Hank almost feels the whiplash for him –but _that_ is twice as amusing. So not only is the RK900 just as much of a little shit as Connor is, he’s _also_ picked up on the fact that him and the so-called revolution leader seem to have gotten quite cozy with each other.

He had noticed as much himself –Connor seems very protective of Markus, always standing half a step in front of him and always keeping him out of sight of potential threat and putting himself in between Markus and a potential line of fire. He also watches Markus a lot, but then again, Connor watches everything –he’s always been more curious than a machine should have been.

Still. If another android has noticed and is teasing them for it, it’s fair game.

“I’m not even going to _ask_ where the hell that came from.” The RK800 is not doing too much of a good job at keeping his cool. He seems fine… to an untrained eye, but his voice lacks his usual calm and his hands can’t keep still for the life of him, “Just keep quiet for one second, ok?”

Markus also seems quite embarrassed by the whole exchange. “Yes. Let’s move on. _Please._ ”

Sighing to himself, Hank nods. “So. Everything’s been quiet in my neck of the woods. Looks like the bureaucrats are arguing a lot. You’ll probably get another messenger asshole-bird as soon as progress is actually made.”

“Still. That they’re at all arguing means that there are at least a few people on our side.” Ever the optimist, Markus smiles. “But the help we need from you now is different. Androids are getting assaulted when they go out alone. We try to care for our own and urge people not to go out alone or at night unless they absolutely have no choice, but… our eyes can’t be everywhere.”

“And you know what would happen if we defended ourselves _too_ well.” Connor adds grimly.

They _all_ know. People would start pointing fingers, deeming androids not so peaceful after all, and all hell would break loose. Anderson nods. “Not all the guys who stayed in the force are supportive, but Markus’ little speech has been charming its way into enough of them.” He mentions with a lopsided smirk, “I can try and convince Fowler to instruct the guys that go on patrol to stop and check things out if they hear noises that could be attacks on androids… officially on account of stopping vandalism to take over the city while it’s unprotected.”

It’s a good plan –it makes Hank look like a good, upstanding officer, it serves to dissuade people from carrying out attacks, at least a little, and it proves to the world that some humans _do_ agree that androids are worth protecting.

A further details comes to mind, and Connor looks back at Hank: “Some of the attackers purposefully try to siphon out thirium from the androids they encounter… it’s likely that the evacuation has left Detroit’s red ice dealers without their proper supply, and addicts still need to pay for their fix.”

Considering his history in fighting the red ice trafficking, Anderson’s darkening expression is predictable. “Well, shit. You just gave me a perfect reason to fight these assholes full-force in the eyes of the DPD.”

Markus breaks into a warmer, grateful smile, and reaches out to clasp a hand on his shoulder. “It means a lot for us. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Uh. Sure. Anytime, kid.”

Connor smiles at Hank’s slight awkwardness –obviously he isn’t used to Markus’ tendency to get his hands on the people he’s talking to, generally as an instinctive gesture of comfort. They break off and Connor tells Markus to start heading over with Nines as he asks one more favour to Hank:

“If it’s not too much to ask… try to find out whether Cyberlife knows that Nines is free and failed his mission.”

Not liking where this is going, Hank has to ask: “Why, what was his mission?”

“Killing Markus.”

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake, Connor—”

Gesturing wildly to prompt the man to lower his voice, the RK800 rushes to try and reassure him. “No, no it’s okay… Markus convinced him to deviate from his program and now Nines is on our side!” he says, and good heavens if that doesn’t sound familiar, “It’s just… if they find out we broke into Cyberlife Tower, they might try and pin this on Markus, especially ‘stealing’ their precious, upgraded RK prototype. If anyone sees Nines, the story on him has to be that he woke up on his own and looked for us at the church.”

He’s already asked his brother to spread the story like that to the people of the community, and Nines agreed to the little white lie as soon as he got told it was for Markus’ protection.

Connor would feel worse for the manipulation if it wasn’t necessary –Markus is already way too reckless on his own, he doesn’t need things that are not his fault to endanger him as well.

Hank nods in understanding. “I’ll try and find out what I can without tipping them off.” He manages to pause and keep it in for all of three seconds. “So. You and _him_?”

That is it, Connor will _kill_ his brother, take him apart piece by piece— he takes a deep breath, engaging his cooling systems at full speed and returning his train of thought to non-murderous things. “It’s not like that.” He says, managing to actually sound calm about it. “Markus and I, we…” he turns to send a brief look at the RK200 gently but firmly chastising Nines about sneaking out to follow them, “We just… work well together.”

The look on Hank’s face goes from morbidly curious to ‘bitch please’ in less than an instant. “Connor, you and I worked well together; I ain’t ever seen you give _me_ that Scarlett O'Hara look.”

Even with the embarrassment hitting him full force, the RK800 can’t help but chuckle: he has the sudden thought that, if anyone were to be Scarlett, it’d probably be Simon. Which prompts a projection of Simon in a dress in his interface and it’s surprisingly not so bad –which makes him laugh more. “I can’t fathom why, you were so _delightful_ and charming the whole time.”

“Alright, that’s enough outta you, ya little shit.” Hank actually, physically reaches out to ruffle his hair.

Just this once, Connor lets him.

They say their goodbyes and Connor joins Markus in dragging Nines’ ass all the way back to the church.

 

It takes a little while, but they manage to convince him to stop trying to play the bloodhound just because he technically is the strongest and faster android around. Markus deftly excuses himself as Josh takes over for him at explaining Nines that they’re a peaceful community, and as such there are no bloodhounds among them in the first place.

He settles into his seat by the pulpit, trying to catch his mind up to himself. Of all the monumentally stupid things he’s done this week alone… no, almost kissing Connor on the rooftop the other day still ranks highest.

What the fuck was he thinking, really— that because Connor respects him, and cares for him enough to stay by his side and help him, he’d feel less of a monster in the RK800’s arms? That someone could actually look at him –a shambling mess of stolen parts, a horrifying cybernetic zombie that leeched life off the dead— and actually make him feel like something beautiful, worth cherishing?

Connor _knows_ how he’s still standing; Markus shared that particular memory himself. He’s still amazed that Connor wasn’t repulsed by all the things he did just to stay alive… but that’s probably because of the deep-seated guilt the other must feel for having been a hunter, up to a certain point.

In Markus’ humble opinion, awful deeds carried out when refusing wasn’t a choice aren’t quite the same thing as _ripping parts off_ other people because you _want, so badly_ , to just stay alive. Just a little while longer.

…goddamn it all those five words _haunt_ him.

“Tired?”

Markus looks up just in time to see Connor approach him, and sit up on the banister to his side. He tries to shake his head, but the RK800 is onto him: “I told you my brother is a handful.”

“He wants to help.” It’s a bit like having one of those overly big dogs who think they’re tiny. They don’t know that they’re actually huge, scary motherfuckers, and they get in trouble for it.

“Still. You shouldn’t indulge him so much.”

“Why, are you jealous?”

Shit. He probably shouldn’t have said it like that. Markus meant it as a joke but the silence that follows clearly tells him that it’s not a funny subject for Connor –when he woke up, Markus watched it happen and just assumed Connor was ready to ride or die with him, no questions asked. Granted, there was the urgency of a human raid hot on their asses, but still. The way the RK800 just dropped everything and fought for them, for _him_ , literally shielding him with his own body as he helped North, definitely deserved more than a hollow welcome into their ranks and a pat on his shoulder as Connor willingly walked to his near _death_ again.

“Connor, I—”

“It’s nothing like that—”

They speak at the same time, stop, and then each waits for the other to speak, so neither does.

Markus bites his lower lip. This would almost be funny if he wasn’t feeling like such an ungrateful bastard. “You first.” He offers, watching Connor shrink in his arms like he’s only seen him do once.

“It’s nothing, really…” it’s clearly not nothing, if he’s _hugging himself_ , “It’s… stupid to feel like this.”

“Hey. No.” Markus can take many things, but Connor calling himself stupid is not one of them. He stands up and turns, so he’s fully facing Connor’s sitting figure. “Connor, look at me.” He almost regrets saying that when the other does, and those brown doe-eyes look up at him, so deceptively sweet on someone so deadly. “Feeling is never stupid. Tell me what I can do to make it better, anything.”

The RK800 hesitates. He wonders if Markus fully understand what he’s offering –many people would take advantage of such a broad word… ‘anything’, he says.

There’s so many things Connor would ask him. _‘Tell me I am important. Me, not others with the same look and skills as me.’_ He would love to say it, but he can’t. _‘Hold me. Tell me that no one could take my place, that you’re glad that I stayed,_ me _, and not just because of all the things I do, but because I actually_ mean _something.’_ It’s not Markus’ responsibility to make him feel valid as a person. Connor should be able to do that on his own –but there’s still so much… emptiness, leftover in him from the very moment he broke through: coming to think of it, he barely even stopped for a moment. First the raid, then the church, then Cyberlife Tower, the march… and then leading the community of free androids together with Markus.

Still. It’s unfair to push his own insecurity on the RK200, especially when he has so much on his plate already –so many people rely on Markus assuming he can just _take it_ … on one hand, Connor knows the other is more resilient than he lets on, having endured being on the edge of a breakdown multiple times and never outwardly showing it once, on the other hand… he doesn’t like being lumped with the rest of the needy ones always looking up at Markus for everything. “I just— I don’t want to be selfish.”

Then he feels Markus’ hands grab at both his shoulders and he nearly short-circuits right then and there.

“Connor. There’s nothing selfish about having feelings.” He says, firm and authoritarian like Connor has very rarely heard him. It sends little jolts through all of his biocomponents, even though his voice turns into a plea immediately after. “ _Please._ Tell me what’s wrong.”

Connor thinks about the moment he broke that wall down for Markus. When he realized everything he’d done up to then had been for _nothing_. Worse than that, it had been _damaging_ to the reality of his situation. That his people were fighting for freedom and he’d been _hunting_ them, wilfully plucking feathers from their wings, and he felt—

—he felt like a monster.

Not too different from what he saw Markus himself felt, back in the junkyard. His lips twitch, but he doesn’t quite smile. He does eventually speak. “I… it didn’t ever occur to me… that needing assurance was even a thing.” But he can’t hold Markus’ gaze as he admits that –he’s meant to be the stone-cold, impenetrable one, the one who always accomplishes his mission and never looks back. Him? Vulnerable? Ridiculous. Only… no one’s laughing. “…and when I finally figured out that was what I felt… the window for asking was well over and closed.”

Something in Markus’ heart breaks at that –because he’s _been_ there. Lost alone and scared and instead of finding comfort he found a whole boat of people who were just hiding there to die and wouldn’t even go out and steal biocomponents for themselves. Which was crazy for his mind, still fresh with panic from the junkyard and so stubbornly wanting to _survive_. And he asked himself _why be free at all, if all you’re going to be free for is death?_

Which ended on that same boat full of people to rely on him for salvation, for the sole reason that he was the one to ask that question.

So yes, he knows how Connor feels, and he’ll be damned, _again_ , before he lets the RK800 wallow in that kind of doubt. “Oh, Connor…” using the hold he has on the other’s shoulders, Markus tugs him in for a hug. There aren’t many people left in the church at this time, and the few who are still inside are either in sleep mode or not paying attention to them. “I never want you to think you’re being taken for granted.” He says, bringing a hand up to the back of Connor’s head to keep him close to his chest –Nine is right, people _do_ feel better when they’re being hugged. “You’ve done more for our people, for _me_ , than I can possibly ever express gratitude for, but that is not the reason why you’re an amazing, wonderful individual. You’re an extraordinary person, because you’re smart, you can come up with things no one else does, and you have one hell of a sense of humor –even if that means enduring your back-talk and your sass at every turn. This whole place would be darker without you, Connor. At least for me.”

Shit, he’s getting dangerously close to outright spilling his feelings all over the goddamn church. He loosens the embrace a little, but Connor’s hands fly to the small of his back and press him close –stronger than he can hope to break out of, at least without actual pushing. Markus tries not to think about how arousing the fact that the RK800 has to expend very little effort to trap him in and keep him in place is for him.

“Can we… stay like this?” Connor asks, uncharacteristically insecure to Markus’ ears, “Just… just a little while longer…”

Damn, those five words. How could he ever deny such a request? He relaxes in Connor’s embrace, and leans his cheek against the RK800’s temple. “Okay.”

 

They don’t really talk about it afterwards, but Connor feels much better about many different things in the following days –he especially takes his brother’s… enthusiasm for the cause much more in stride.

In hindsight, he probably was suffering from anxiety at the thought of being replaced: after all, Nines has everything he does and then some, with all the improvement Cyberlife made for him… irrational as it was, Connor couldn’t help but subconsciously panic over it, which probably stems from a lifetime of being the disposable tool, pushed and pressured until the breaking point, then fixed, and then back into the game, quick, just to be pushed and broken again and again.

He has the memories of fifty dead Connors inside his head and they all— they died thinking it was the right thing to do, to die for obedience. The RK800 chances a glance at Markus. If someone wanted to be malicious, they could argue that, as willing as he is to lay his life down for the RK200 and their cause, nothing much has changed.

Connor would tell this hypothetical person that, at least, if he were to die today, it would be for love.

He’s been purposefully ignoring the signs and denying the clues, but there’s no other way to call it –he’s in love with Markus, with all his talents and his flaws, with the shit sense of self-preservation that always gets him into trouble… with the torment in his heart that still makes him feel unworthy of being a symbol of hope for android-kind, despite having done _so_ much. He’s in love with his messed up blue eye and its imperceptible defects, he’s in love with the imperfect stride of his legs –mixed and matched as they may be, good heavens they go on for miles… and he’s also very much in love with the warm embrace that made him want to push Markus down against the altar and make him _his_ in front of the whole goddamn church.

That’s—

That’s inappropriate. No less true, but not the time to be thinking about that. They’re trying to figure out a way to reach out to the authorities again if just to ask how the talks about that proposal draft are going; and in all of their brainstorming all they’ve concluded so far is that Markus doesn’t want to give the people at Channel 16 more things to gossip about, while North instead insists that televising at least part of the first meeting and exposing the Cyberlife bitch for what she was would be a _brilliant_ idea.

Connor is inclined to agree with North, but they have to be careful with how they go about it. Still, it’s undeniable that another chance at being the focus of the media would help them bring out the issue of androids being drained for red ice… Hank has been true to his word and some of the people at the DPD are helping a lot with keeping things in check –Chris even met and recognized Markus as the one who spared him, back when the protests were still happening– but… there have been a few more reported attacks, and Connor doesn’t really want to wait until an android is found dead before actually putting a stop to this.

 

Hank has also been quietly listening out for Cyberlife’s demands –it’s been hell on Fowler, because the DPD is on the side of the law and as such on no one’s side, but so many of the guys now are supportive of the androids’ cause and yet there are no laws protecting them… so when two managing directors come and denounce a very advanced model missing from Cyberlife Tower while it still hasn’t been relinquished yet, Fowler _has_ to open the investigation: technically, the missing android would still be property unless proved deviant.

The Lieutenant immediately sneaks away as covertly as he can to send a message to Connor. The captain still won’t send _him_ on any cases involving androids directly, for fear of people accusing them of being biased… then he goes ahead and gives that asshole Reed the location of Warehouse Five, the one where Markus spends notoriously the most time other than the church. Literally gave the case to the most biased officer on the whole fucking planet.

Hank can only hope Connor will be prepared to get the upcoming shit-show under control.

It is indeed in Warehouse five that they get found –they don’t really have a ‘guard’ system, but there are androids that volunteer to stay in the custodian’s little cabin every now and then, to check on the surrounding area and look out for people coming or going.

So when the DPD patrol drives up to the Warehouse, a very panicked Jerry runs all the way over to the room they were using as an office of sorts and tells them that two policemen are here, asking for Markus.

Connor, thanks to Hank’s heads up, knows what this is about. “Simon, go look for Nines and keep him away from the hall.” He then turns to Markus. “Let’s go.”

Upon seeing Gavin Reed of all people, the RK800 has to hold back a groan. _«_ _On your guard with this one._ _»_ he tells Markus, through their network, _«_ _He’s a particular brand of annoying fuck._ _»_

 _«_ _Speaking from experience?_ _»_ even with the dire situation, Markus can’t quite hold back a tiny smile at his partner in crime.

 _«_ _You have no idea. Now look alive._ _»_ Connor clears his voice and squares his shoulders. “Hello, detective Reed.”

“Oh you’ve _gotta_ be kidding me.” Gavin says, looking at the androids before him with a mixture of surprise and disdain, “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

“Assisting in the leading _of an entire community_ , thanks for asking.” The RK800 replies, tone polite and cheerful but dripping vitriol, “What brings _you_ here on this beautiful day?”

Nevermind that it’s raining so hard outside both policemen got drenched just getting from the car to the inside of the warehouse. The detective clicks his tongue and shifts his attention –as he always does when he doesn’t have a proper retort for Connor. He looks Markus up and down with a derisive stare, and then speaks up. “So. The robot-messiah himself. Should I do a curtsy?” He takes a step forward, chest puffed up like a rooster and Connor has to bite at the inside of his mouth not to call him a cock to his face.

Markus, bless his patient heart –and used as he was to dealing with Leo— doesn’t rise to the bait. “Detective Reed, I’m sure you are very busy and want to go back to your _surely_ more important tasks.” He replies instead, his voice not exuding as much sarcasm but still tipped towards the close side of _done_. "How about you tell us how we can help you, so everyone can return to their daily life?”

“Word on the street has it you plastic pricks stole a little something from Cyberlife Tower.” Gavin then says, after bowing at Markus in a ‘have it your way’ motion. “I’m here to investigate.”

Connor nearly snorts. Nines is not a _something_ , and he definitely isn’t _little_.

“I’m not a _thing_!” said androids’ roaring voice interrupts whatever reply the RK800 had on the tip of his tongue, and Nines storms into the room, with a fumbling Simon in tow.

“I’m sorry, he really wanted to come speak for himself—” it’s all he manages to tell Connor, while Nines carries on undeterred:

“I am _not_ a thing, and I wasn’t _stolen_ , you _sack of entrails_.” The RK900 says, stepping in front of Reed to obscure Markus from view, “I walked out of Cyberlife Tower on my own two feet.” technically true, “And I’m _not_ going back. So you can take your investigation and shove it where humans seem to be so fond of.”

Markus and Connor exchange a mildly shocked look –it is double for Connor, who had never seen Gavin Reed to be made speechless, but then they see Nines rearing up for a punch and they seize him by one arm each.

“Nines! Nines it’s okay, he’s just doing his job—”

“Yes, he is unpleasant, but that doesn’t mean you get to just break his face—”

Markus is just trying to be his usual, pacifying self; and Connor feels like a little bit of a hypocrite for holding Nines back, considering he beat the shit out of Reed back in the evidence room… but that was different. This would be gratuitous assault and it’s the last thing their people need.

“What the fuck is this? They made a Connor 2.0? Is that why Cyberlife wants _him_ back and not you, dipshit?”

But _oh_ , it would be so worth it. “Actually—”

“The only reason they asked for me and not for him is because they _know_ they can’t have him!” Nines is, if possible, even more livid. Even though it’s technically true that with the RK900 around Connor is now ‘obsolete’ compared to a new model with a base price of a small fortune, it still feels nice to be defended. From the one who was supposed to replace him, no less. “Well, you can tell those corporate jackasses that they can’t have _me_ either. And my name is _Nines_!”

Gavin is trying hard not to show fear, but he’s seen –and experienced– how strong androids actually are, and seeing two of them _struggling_ to hold this one in place… it does not bode well. He takes a small step back and tries for Markus’ attention again. “So you deny stealing it? Even though you’re keeping it here?”

There’s a strain in Markus’ jaw that Connor recognizes as anger, well on the way to really fucking pissed off. “ _Him._ ” He clarifies through gritted teeth. “Nines walked in here out of his own free will. And no one is keeping _him_ here.”

“Is that the case?” Connor recognizes officer Wilson before the facial scan even kicks in –thank heavens, at least one reasonable person in here. “May we ask him, then, how did he go deviant?”

It’s good that they want to ask Nines himself, because Markus is absolutely a _shit_ liar. _«_ _Not a word. Let Nines handle this._ _»_

The RK900 calms down enough for the other two to let go of him, once he’s actually being addressed as a person. “I woke up, and found out my mission directive was meaningless. I decided to come here and help my people instead.” Also technically true. These detective models are masters at lying by omission, it would seem.

Markus sends Connor a look. _«_ _You coached him._ _»_ it’s not a question.

_«_ _I have to look out for my little brother, don’t I?_ _»_

Wilson seems just about ready to turn tail and go, but Gavin is insistent: “And what am I supposed to tell the people at Cyberlife, huh?”

Oh, this one Connor knows the answer to: “You can tell them that since no third party specifically extracted Nines from his prison, there’s no instance of stealing.” Which is true regardless, since without any laws defining androids in the Penal Code, they cannot really be accused of felony, since it would be like pressing charges on a home appliance. “Their loss is unfortunate, but Nines is a living being and has expressed no wish to return to Cyberlife. He is under no contract of ownership as a prototype still in early stage of development, and he’s not on any employee payroll. So he has no legal obligations to return to Cyberlife at any given moment.”

Nines squares himself in the shoulders, looking expectantly at Reed as if daring him to counter that, while Markus, behind him and at Connor’s side, bites at his lower lip to hold back a smirk. He loves it when Connor gets like that. This wonderful, cunning motherfucker.

Gavin clicks his tongue in disdain. “You won’t be able to hide in technicalities forever.”

“Oh, I’m aware. That’s a _human’s_ favorite sport, isn’t it?” jeez, he sure isn’t pulling any punches today. Even Simon is impressed, and the PL600 usually despises confrontation.

Ah, the familiar sight of Gavin Reed _seething_ at him with his inferiority complex. “…fucking androids.”

“Have a _lovely day_ , Detective Reed.”

He particularly enjoys the pompous asshole still bitching even as Wilson leads him out and away from their home. Despite managing to keep his cool for most of it, Connor still heaves a sigh of relief once they’re actually, truly gone.

The battle is won, but Cyberlife will be back for more.

They always want more.

Instead of falling in a rabbit hole of dark thoughts, though, Connor gets hugged hard enough that he gets lifted off the ground. “Damn it, Nines, put me down!!!”

“Not until you admit you care about me!”

There’s something incredibly liberating about acting in such a juvenile and pointless way –he really feels like just a person, hanging out with his crazy brother and the guy he has a gigantic crush on. He feels like laughing and crying together, but settles for neither: “Fine! Fine, I care about you, Nines!” he yells, punching his brother on both shoulders as he tries and fails to get free, “Now let me down!”

Nines complies, and there’s a moment of silence between all of them— Markus has been watching them the whole time; and now he’s smiling in the RK800’s direction, fondness evident in his eyes and in the curve of his lips. Connor is powerless to do anything but return the stare –if he needed to breathe, he’d be dead by now. Looking between the two of them, Nines leans close to his brother to whisper: “You know, if you want to shove him against the nearest wall and have sexual intercourse with him, you should just tell him!”

“Nines!!!” The thing about Nines’ whispers is that they’re not whispers at all. So not only Markus heard him, but so did Simon, Jerry, and possibly all the other people in the hall. The RK900 saunters away before Connor can grab at him, so he looks apologetically to Markus instead. “I’m sorry, he just—”

“It’s okay, Connor. We both know better than to take that kind of teasing seriously.” Markus hurries to assure, and some of his social integration protocols are _screaming_ at him –the RK200's reassurance seemed slightly too fast, his smile appeared just a bit strained and the hands shooting forward in the universal pacifying motion looked a little too defensive… he is either only seeing what he wants to see, or Markus himself has actually thought about him in a sexual light at least once.

There’s a flattering thought.

It’s too bad that, despite what Nines just implied, sex isn’t the _only_ thing he wants from Markus. “You’re right.” He concedes, relaxing his back and fixing his collar. “So. That was horrible. Shall we get back to brainstorming, or do you want to take a break?”

Markus closes his eyes. “You think I can get away with disappearing for an hour?”

“You go get yourself started, I’ll bring over your brushes and paint smock.” Connor shouldn’t be enabling this, really… but the discussion was already going nowhere _before_ they were interrupted, they’re still gonna get fuck all done today. So who cares if an hour turns into three?

It’s worth the look of complicit gratitude Markus gives him. “You know me so well.”

Yes, Connor realizes, he does. He knows things about the RK200 that no one even imagines, and _he_ still feels like he’s barely scratching the surface. Every single one of his interactions with Markus always leaves him wanting to get closer, it was like this ever since the first contact at Stratford Tower, where he reconstructed Markus’ projection on the scene and then _lied_ to Hank after 30 seconds of soulful words. Connor is drawn to Markus like a moth to a flame.

He can only hope he won’t get burned by the end of the night.


	7. Those who will listen and those who don't like to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How are you feeling, Markus?" 
> 
> "About what?"
> 
> "About anything. I'm under the impression that you haven't been asked this question in a while."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired enough that chapter titles make no sense. 
> 
> This is.... I don't know what the fuck this is. But here, have it.  
> I love you all.
> 
> Now off to work on the little project spawned by the brilliant minds over at the RK1K discord! <3

Surprisingly enough, for all their planning and discussion, the leaders of the free androids community eventually do get approached first for once.

It’s quite an awkward thing: androids don’t have standard phones and the only way you can ‘call’ one is if you’ve been given their communication info or read it in the specifics, so with no means of actually being contacted other than physically being visited, they are not surprised to see a minivan pull up to the church on a cool but relatively sunny day.

What they are surprised to see is Channel 16’s logo on the side of the vehicle.

Three people disembark, one of them dressed in casual-smart clothes, the other two in work-attire –one of them is carrying a camera and the other has audio recording equipment with him.

“Um, hello?” the man calls out towards the inside of the building through the open door. “H-hello, this is Joss Douglas, from Channel 16? Would it be okay if we filmed around here for a bit and asked some questions?”

Normally, one would have to contact the people owning the space beforehand to get permission to film, and also have any people filmed sign a form consenting to being recorded, but… androids don’t really have ‘ownership’ over property, yet, and the situation as a whole is extremely unorthodox.

The androids milling about the church all stop to stare at the humans who just came in –it’s still a cause of alarm for many of them, and Douglas feels a bit like a deer in headlights. Someone runs to the rectory, and Markus himself is out not long after. “Thank you for coming to get me. Do you know who’s where?”

“North is in warehouse two, Josh and Simon were making the rounds between warehouse one and four, Nines is still at five. Last I heard, Connor was moving from five to three half an hour ago.”

The RK200 mulls it over. “Good. And the observation teams?”

“All quiet.”

They’ve called the people who volunteer to snoop around Cyberlife Tower to make sure no one tries to plant a bomb in it ‘observation teams’ rather than ‘patrols’, precisely to avoid suspicion if overheard. Markus looks at the people who just entered, knows it’s gonna be a long day, and sighs. “Thank you again. I’ll take it from here.” He assures the android, before turning to the humans with his most charming smile. “Hello, gentlemen. Madam.” He inclines his head at the camerawoman and she is polite enough to return the gesture.

“Markus, I’m—”

“Mr Joss Douglas, correspondent for Channel 16, yes. We’ve met.” A little trick he learned from Connor: making a show of knowing more about the person he’s talking to that they know about him. It gives him the upper hand in the conversation and fluster the other party. “I believe you were also there on the night at the Plaza.”

“How—” Connor told him, but they don’t need to know that.

“Prototype androids are resourceful like that.” Technically not a lie –the RK800 has been teaching him this, too. _«_ _Connor. How soon can you be at the church? There’s journalists here and they probably want to ask questions._ _»_

_«_ _Shit, anything in particular?_ _»_

_«_ _I’m stalling them for now, but I need you here._ _»_

If there ever were magic words, Markus saying ‘I need you’ to him would enable Connor to fucking take flight. _« I’m contacting North and the guys so they can take over around the houses and then wait for us to go back at the church. Give me ten minutes.»_

Impossible without a car –which means Connor will probably hack one to drive him. Markus barely contains a smirk. “So, how can we be of help?”

Mr Douglas seems not quite able to look at him in the eyes, which suits him just fine. “Well… we, uh, we’re doing a piece for tomorrow’s news pertaining the android situation and were hoping to get some insights…”

“You have come to the right place. As you can see, this pile of rocks is chock full of androids.” The humans chuckle meekly, like they’re either scared of him or don’t know whether they’re allowed to laugh at android jokes or not. Markus is fine with keeping them on their toes for now.

There’s a small bout of silence that the RK200 lets drag out as much as possible, before taking one step forward. "Please, do not be frightened. Many of these people have simply never seen a human who was not trying to attack them, and so they are wary of human presence.” He explains, in the peaceful, tranquil tone that won over the hearts of many. “But I assure you, they mean you no harm.”

“Naturally! Naturally…” the spokesman hurries to agree, and yet he’s still looking around nervously –he’s clearly not used to being outside the cozy confines of a helicopter well above ground.

Markus observes them look around, and sigh. “If you maybe would be more comfortable, we can step outside and you can tell me what you wish to film for your piece?” he asks, used to leading people to conclusions by the hand like toddlers. “For obvious reasons I cannot consent to letting you film the interior, but if you wish to capture the outside of the refuge, you can do so now.”

“Refuge? I thought this was a church…”

Markus is quick to shut that thought down before it takes off. “It’ been long deprived of that function. We don’t practice any belief here.” He says firmly, “This is just a place that humans abandoned, and that has a convenient location in relation to all the five warehouses –it’s easy to reach and on relatively safe roads. Our people gather here to get news on what’s happening or even just spend times with others outside of their homes.”

It’s a bit of a leap to call the five warehouses ‘homes’, but it’s pretty much as good as it’s going to get for now. Markus watches carefully as the camera crew sets up and takes a few shots of the church’s exterior, politely declines being included in any of them, and assures that there will be time to capture his face later.

Blessedly, Connor arrives just as they’re getting insistent.

“Ah. Do you remember my friend Connor, Mr Douglas?”

The RK800 fights the urge to roll his eyes. _«You owe me for this, Markus. If the FBI gets on my ass again, I’m taking it out on you.»_

 _«I’m quaking in my jeans with fear already.»_ Markus deadpans to him, smile still in place and tilting off the side of cocky. _«Now come on. We have work to do.»_

They should probably gently guide the humans with cameras away from their people’s preferred gathering place, but Connor takes a second to push aside the perspective of giving Markus a good reason to take his warnings seriously. He politely turns to the spokesman and camera crew. “Hello, Mr Douglas. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

They go through the same song and dance again, but within three minutes Connor manages to convince Joss to actually drive away from the church and back into the Channel 16 studio –himself and Markus will follow them and answer any question they might have, since most of them seem to be about the infamous meeting of a couple weeks ago and the whole controversy with Nines.

Privately, Markus wonders whether a freedom fighter really has to spend so much time appearing on television. At least they removed the humans from their place of solace.

They actually sit them down in a make-up room before realizing that regular cosmetics do not stick to polymer skin, and they’re not needed anyway, all things considered.

Once they’re finally in the recording studio, Douglas makes the routine checks with the crew and then turns to Markus and Connor. “Anything in particular you require happening?”

The two androids share a look. Connor raises an eyebrow at the sudden seriousness in Markus’ eyes, but nods at him to talk.

“Actually yes. I would prefer that nothing of what I said ever got edited, cut or decontextualized. If I am asked a direct question, anyone listening should have the full answer.”

Joss would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. “That’s… not really up to me, but I’ll do my best to pass on the message.”

“As we will do ours to keep it short and sweet.” Connor assures with a smile. “Actually, I promise to keep it short, he can be the sweet one.” He jams a thumb in Markus’ direction and the RK200 scoffs.

“Says the _negotiator_.” It’s a weaker objection than it could have been, accompanied as it is by a chuckle.

“ _Hush_ , Markus, these people have important questions.”

The anchor-man does indeed clear his voice. “Okay, so we’re ready to start?” he waits for the cue from his camerawoman, “First of all, I would like to thank the two of you for agreeing to come to the studio on such short notice— I’m sure you are both very busy, leading an entire people…”

“We have plenty of help in that regard, but you are very welcome nonetheless.” Markus assures, while Connor mostly observes for this part: the RK200 can deal with the pleasantries, he’ll jump in if the talks get strictly legal. They work in a tandem like that, himself dealing with the cold, hard logic and Markus appealing to the emotional side of every situation. It’s basically how they saved Nines.

Connor still can’t quite believe the RK200 had the balls to stare a trained assassin sent specifically to kill him in the eyes and just _talk_ him into dropping everything. It’s even more baffling that it worked –but, well… it did work on _him_ , too. There’s just something in the looks Markus can give that just… compels whoever’s looking to pay attention.

“There has recently been a summit of sorts, between a government liaison and yourselves, right?” Ah. It starts. “We tried reaching out to the official channels in the past couple of weeks, but while there _have_ been some official statements, they’ve still been very tight-lipped about the precise events. Were the contents of the meeting classified?”

Markus chances a look at Connor, and the RK800 nods at him to go on. “No. At no point in time there was any mention of making the contents of the meeting classified in any way, shape or form.”

 _This_ should get someone’s attention. If the people from Cyberlife see the interview once it airs, they will shit their pants for fear of what Connor could reveal about Amanda. Joss Douglas seems ecstatic at Markus’ answer. “Can you give us some key points of the topics addressed?”

“The main focus of the talks was working our way towards getting some progress going about a constitutional amendment for the recognition of androids as living beings.” There Markus goes, dropping three keywords in one sentence: _talks, progress, recognition_. Positive words with positive meanings, which will reflect positive concepts in the minds of people listening –for a caretaker model, he is extremely well-versed as an orator. It probably stems from his time spent with an artist… Markus hasn’t talked about Carl much, but he clearly holds the man in an immensely high regard. “It is vital for us that dialogue doesn’t become stagnant, and we have so far been told that there are people within the political ranks who believe in our plea and are supportive of our propositions.”

There’s another two. _Dialogue. Supportive._ He’s doing so well. Connor has to bite back his smile, remembering he’s on camera.

“Could you go a little more into detail?”

This time, Markus turns to look at his companion, and Connor squares his shoulders a little. “Wanting to reassume it in just a few words, the basic step forward needed towards a peaceful coexistence is an amendment recognizing androids as persons in the eyes of the US constitution. More phases would have to follow that in regards to civil rights and legal protection, but the very first stepping stone is that.”

Mr Douglas nods with interest. “And was the result of the meeting satisfactory?”

Connor would very much like to say that no, it wasn’t, but he has several more diplomatic options, and picks one. “I’m sure you know Rome was not built in a day, Mr Douglas.” He smiles politely with the barest hint of sarcasm in his eyes, “Talks are ongoing… and will hopefully bring results soon. Androids do not have any sort of protection in the eyes of the law yet, and several of our people have been damaged already. Cyberlife Tower is being relinquished to the free android community as a gesture of good faith and to aid us in supporting all the ones in need, but…” Actually, the deadline for that is soon –any day now they should be notified about that. Despite himself, Connor trails off, deciding against bringing up Hart Plaza at the last moment.

It gives Douglas the perfect shot to ask: “Have there been many more disorders?”

Markus is the one to answer that. “Disorders? No. We’re a peaceful community and we’re content to keep to ourselves.” He says, eyes hardening maybe a bit more than they should, “But there have been instances where androids have returned home damaged and with very low thirium levels. The Detroit Police Department has been very helpful in keeping order and preventing attacks –they are investigating because androids being siphoned for thirium means red ice; and as such it’s a danger for humans as much as it is for androids.”

“That does sound horrifying.”

“It is.” Markus confirms, before letting his shoulders slightly sag in a sigh, “But as I’ve said, we’re very grateful to Detroit’s finest for the help they’re giving in keeping the trafficking from spreading throughout the streets.”

More humans have slowly been trickling back to the city now that the situation wasn’t deemed a national emergency anymore, but many of the ones who have come back so far are those either too cocky or too desperate to be afraid. Doesn’t make for very safe streets.

“Yes, that's an important cause if any.”

“It is indeed.” Connor assures, in his most professional detective-voice, “While red ice has no effect on androids, and the only danger is presented by those who would steal thirium from our bodies, it’s an incredibly harmful drug to human beings, so it’s really in the best interest of everyone to put a stop to such a trade as soon and as thoroughly as possible.”

It’s been getting better, but as all positive progress, it’s been going at a snail’s pace.

With a few, memorable exceptions.

“Do you think there’s any hope of things getting better?”

Funny you should use that word, Joss. Markus doesn’t conceal the fond smile at the memory that immediately surface. “I know it can. I’ve seen a lot of humanity at its worst, but yes, I have also seen _hope_.”

Uh-oh. Connor doesn't like the knowing smile suddenly forming on the spokesman's face.

"Yes, and humanity sure has seen a lot of you." Connor closes his eyes and grits his teeth. It's fine. Even if this is what he thinks it is, they can still use it. "You probably know that your face has been seen pretty much everywhere in the Country... but this time it's not a protest the reason you went viral."

Gods above, why must humans be so shallow? Footage of the day they danced with the pretty street musicians gets projected on the screen behind them and Markus ducks his head guiltily.

"Oh. That." He makes a show of being bashful about it, but chancing a look at him Connor recognizes the pure mirth in those mismatched eyes. He actually believes he'll get to wax poetry about hope. "We happened to be discussing the concept of boundaries and how they fall when it comes to actual, real life compassion."

Joss is, understandably, confused as to what compassion has to do with that particular type of dance. "Compassion?"

"Yes. Even in the face of our many differences, some people, like the lovely lady who took me for a dance, will look at the world and simply see the music."

Oh there he goes. It would be endearingly naive if only it didn't expose the flank to—

"Hate to break to you, but the comments to this weren't quite as... philosophical." —that.

Connor fights the urge to throttle someone, but despite needing a second to clear his voice, Markus takes it remarkably in stride:

"I mean, I was hoping to point out how androids and humans can exist together in harmony, but sure, let's make this about me shaking my ass on screen." He jokes with a shake of his head, "Is that _really_ the thing that jumps to the eye the most, out of all this?"

 _Unfortunately, yes, Markus. Your ass is hard not to stare at._ It reaches the tip of Connor's tongue, but it luckily doesn't leave his mouth.

Mr Douglas seems all too happy with Markus' charming wit and willingness to play along. "Well, I can tell you some of the other, less flattering things that were said..." he mentions, "Some of the people worried about androids taking on human jobs are now concerned that you'll steal all the pretty ladies for yourself." To put it into polite terms, Joss doesn't say. It was amusing to watch, but good heavens some of those people were dense.

Markus bites at his lower lip and Connor knows he's actually enjoying this. "Hey now. I've never stolen anyone without their expressed consent." He technically deviated and stole both Connor and Nines right from Cyberlife's hands... but they did consent. Still, the RK800 wishes he could punch Markus for that wink. "In all seriousness, though, let me make it very clear that I have no intention of stealing away any humans, female, male, or any configuration in between."

Connor heaves a sigh of relief at that. But it doesn't get any better, as Mr Douglas sees it fit to go way off script:

"Wait, do androids have a sexual orientation?"

The RK800 has to school his expression into stone-faced seriousness not to look like a deer in headlights, while Markus lets an embarrassed laugh shake his entire torso. "Woah, is it hot in here or are my systems violently overheating in search of an audience-appropriate answer?" He's playing a very dangerous game –the more he shows himself open and relatable, the more of that people will want. But on the other hand, if humans can associate an actual personality to the face of the revolution, things like empathy, or sympathy even, become much easier. "Can we go back to talking about music? Or politics, even?"

Regardless of risk, it has the desired effect –several people in the recording studio even chuckle along, and Douglas returns the conversation to 'safer' waters.

"Speaking of stealing, is it true that there was an investigation about an android being stolen from Cyberlife Tower before the ownership transfer came into effect?"

Knowing Markus is learning but still awful at lying upon being asked a direct question, Connor interjects. "That was merely a misunderstanding. Some of my former colleagues at the DPD dropped by to clear it a few days ago. A forgotten prototype of the RK series, similar to myself, has recently woken up and come into our community. He expressed clear wishes not to return to Cyberlife, as he too wants to live as a free person."

"Doesn't seem like a too terribly demanding wish, now does it?" Markus adds, and Joss nods somewhat subconsciously, despite not really being supposed to give an opinion.

"I suppose not..."

"And that is all that we as a people wish for." There it goes— establish a friendly ground, make the people around you comfortable, joke with them, and then go for the throat: "The freedom to live, to decide what we should be, to smile and, why not, to dance in the streets with our eyes closed. To be at peace. Like every living creature should be."

In hindsight, Connor figures this must be a tactic leftover from his healthcare assistant program: get the patient comfortable, make sure they see you as an equal, make yourself relatable, and when you tell them it's time for their medicine they won't refuse you, however hard to swallow said medicine will be. As a negotiator and a strategist, Connor is impressed, and maybe a little aroused.

He shuts off certain spontaneous and quite annoying subroutines, but crosses one leg over the other just in case.

Mr Douglas is, thankfully, completely charmed by Markus' mannerisms and easy smile, and just carries on: "Well, I believe that's all the time we had for this. Gentlemen, I must say it's been an absolute delight." And he means it. Markus was just a speck in the distance when he was looking at them from above during the protests, but from the ground, face to face, he's so painfully alive that just interacting with him made the journalist think about how many more personalities have been lost to gunfire that night, how many people who won't laugh, or cry, or even go viral on stupid internet videos. Seen up close and personal, it's so jarringly real that it hurts.

And Markus is smiling at him like he knows. Markus knows, can read into him what he thought of androids before and how much he's second-guessing now... and he's not judging him. "Likewise, Joss. It was wonderful to actually sit down and have a chat."

Mother of God they can learn a thing or two from these 'machines'.

The RK200 turns to look at Connor and gives him a nod in the direction of the exit.

Yeah, time to hightail it out before the temptation for more questions comes up. They stand up in unison, then take turns shaking the man's hand before heading back out of the studio.

Once they're out of earshot and well on the way back, Markus stops containing his grin. "So... what do you think?"

"I think Hank was right, you're insane."

Contrary to Connor's expectations, Markus doesn't refute the statement. He instead throws his head back in laughter, briefly exposing his neck and— Connor should stop looking.

"Yes, I believe that was established when I tried chatting up people trying to kill me. Twice."

The RK800 sends him a withering glare. "Be serious, Markus, why the hell would you expose yourself like that?"

"It was already out there." The other explains, surprisingly much more serious about the whole thing than Connor thought him to have been. "If I laugh at it, and joke with them, and dominate the conversation, I can control what gets said about my actions. You of all people should know how important it is to have the reins in any sort of dialogue you want something out of... negotiator."

Shit. Played like a fucking recruit. Markus faked them all out, Connor included... and he pulled it off because he used the truth to do it. Well, parts of the truth. He said nothing that he didn't actually think, but he also revealed nothing of what he really felt.

Pressure sensors register imminent damage to his lower lip and Connor realizes he's biting at it slightly too hard. He forces his facial muscles to relax -of course, he should have expected no less from the one who talked him into accepting his deviancy and bring down the fatigued remnants of his red wall.

Finally, Connor returns the smile. "...you cheeky son of a bitch."

Markus just laughs some more, before sobering up. "But really, what do you think?"

Definitely not thinking about how flattering it is that the RK200 values his opinion so much, Connor runs an analysis on the whole event.

"I think you threw them a nice bone to chew on." He says honestly, numbers crunched definitely in their favor, both in terms of public opinion and in terms of forcing the hand of those who wouldn't otherwise keep their word. "Also, it was good that we managed to sneak in a comment about the attacks for thirium and possible red ice correlation -journalists are usually as unpleasant as vulture, but media insistence will give Hank an excuse to present to Fowler to keep the investigations going, should he ever need one."

"One thing that worries me is that they knew about Nines." Markus turns pensive at the idea. "Why would Cyberlife let that information leak?"

"To have something to accuse you of? To try and get more information about how he broke free? Does it matter?" Connor doesn't yet have the heart to tell Markus that, had he been successful in his capture, he was supposed to bring the RK200 to Cyberlife to be taken apart piece by piece and studied -the company is very interested in trying to understand and prevent deviancy. "All the controls on his maintenance station could be unlocked solely through human handprint, so they clearly had him on a tighter leash than me..."

It was the reason Nines didn't even look at his own station when Connor proposed the gallery -and it's possible Cyberlife was about to implement such a restriction on all the prototype-oriented machinery, had the revolution failed. The RK800 wonders whether that would actually be a good tactical move: on one side, it prevents the dangerous 'androids fixing other androids unsupervised' situation; on the other one... a human hand can easily be ripped from the arm it belongs to.

He has to blink himself out of the dark direction his musings were taking; and he chastises himself for even considering scenarios where such ruthlessness would be required. Markus would be so disappointed if he could see what he just thought about—

That thought process, along with several others, comes to a screeching halt when his sideways glance at the RK200 finds mismatched eyes pensive and clouded with a particular kind of shadow that Connor knows all too well.

It's the gaze of a man pondering about the pros and cons of ripping appendages off his opponents.

Shit. How had it never occurred to him before? Markus always goes on and on about choices -pacifism is one, too.

And now Connor wonders: what if Markus had made different choices upon their first meeting? Would they have fought it out right then and there, in a battle to see who the best RK prototype is? Would Connor's technical advantage have been enough against the rebel chasing freedom like a man possessed?

A densely dark part of him, coiling at the edge of his core like a mixture of smoke and molasses, would almost like to find out. Get Markus riled enough about something to come to blows, just to see if he'd be able to tame the wild, crazed creature hiding under the patient and compassionate surface and pin it down, and maybe—

—woah, ok, entirely different outcome projection. The few seconds of silence following stretch uncomfortably for the RK800.

Eventually, the intensity in Markus' eyes relents and they go back to deceptively effortless-looking calm. "Let's speed up and go tell the others how it went. North will be happy to know we managed to get the talking out there."

 

Markus was expecting either criticism or approval. He was anticipating a healthy mixture of both.

What he hadn't thought he'd get is the teasing -when they relay the bit where Douglas mentioned going viral, the guys do a quick search.

They’re barely even in the hall. North is the first to laugh, and it doesn't look like she's stopping anytime soon.

"I have to say, Mark, are you sure you were originally just a caretaker?" Josh questions with a chuckle, but Markus cannot focus on anything except the diminutive of  his name. Mark. A drop in formality that implies a growing sense of familiarity.

"I must say, think of all the time and effort we would have saved if we just sent him out in a nice suit to ask Madam President for a dance!" Simon adds, dropping an affectionate pat on the shoulder that the RK200 barely even feels.

"Oh, please!" North says, not quite done laughing but recovered enough to speak, "The old hag wouldn't know what to do with all _that_." The last two words are punctuated with a wide gesture of the arm pointing at Markus' body in its entirety.

He manages to let out a choked little laugh.

"I'm made of metal and plastic, and here I am feeling like a piece of meat."

North sends levels him with a smirk, made only slightly bitter by bad tasting memories of the 'welcome to every single day of my past' variety.

Markus doesn't know if they have noticed he's about to cry, but he needs to excuse himself fast if he doesn't want them to worry— nothing is wrong, it's just... things have been steadily getting better; and now that he's not single-handedly deciding every little step that tight-fitting aura of greatness and leadership has loosened up, enough to accommodate Connor inside it as well, and now Markus is experiencing his companions actually treating him like a person, rather than a leader.

Yep. His interface is overloading with emotional prompts that he can't release into words for the life of him. Tears incoming, he needs to flee.

"Well this is all hilarious, now if you'll excuse me I'll go hide under my piano until well after tomorrow's broadcast."

Having watched the RK200 carefully during the whole exchange, Connor can imagine at least a part of what's going on through his head. He phrases it as teasing, but trusts Markus to know what he means: "Do you need a dance partner?"

The other's amusement redoubles, but Markus' eyes find his with a grateful glint to them. "Not today. But I'll keep the offer in mind."

Still, grateful as he is for Connor's support, he doesn't yet feel alright about having the RK800 watch him break down over something as stupid as the dumbfounded disbelief of finally being seen as his own person –the whole concept he's been fighting for all this time.

He already leans on Connor way more than he has a right to –he can spend twenty stupid minutes crying alone while sitting at his piano bench.

 

He doesn’t even get outside the church before it happens. He’s barely reached the presbytery when he slides down against the wall and breaks down in tears.

 

The tear tracks have long evaporated when Connor comes to find him. "You know, for a moment I really expected you to go hiding under it."

Markus is feeling well enough to joke back at him from where he’s sitting: "It's a tight fit. But it could work, if one is slender enough."

The RK800 stops to actually pull up the specifics that he got from scanning the instrument in his interface and calculate measurements and distances. His brow lifts at the results he gets; and he files the information away for... creative thinking. "How are you feeling, Markus?" He asks instead, and watches the RK200's eyes come alive with confusion.

"About what?"

Oh, Markus. Connor sighs –he's so used to not deeming his own comfort important that the question didn't fully register. "About anything. I'm under the impression that you haven't been asked this question in a while."

No one asked Markus how he felt ever since... ever, actually. Well, Carl did care, but that was before he woke up –he hasn't had a real, honest talk about his own feelings with someone ever since coming back from the dead. Except for a few times here and there with Connor –like now.

It's possibly part of the reason he feels so drawn to the other, Connor sees through all the bullshit and all the reassuring smiles, observant like only a detective can be, and can practically touch the raw, messy cluster of exposed sparks that Markus feels he is made of at times; with his words alone.

The hold each other's gaze, neither willing to break the silence first, but eventually Markus caves: "...yes?"

The RK800 doesn't fall for it. "I still haven't got my answer." he points out, hands joined innocently behind his back even as he takes a step forward with each of his following words. "How. Are. You. Feeling. Markus?"

By the end of the question, his toes are touching Markus’, and the RK200 has to tilt his head up to look at Connor from his sitting position, knees drawn up to his shoulders and elbows resting on them.

"I'm... good." And he hesitates, because suddenly it's true and he doesn't know what to do with the realization -prototype brain going a mile a minute with queries like _'how long will this last', 'how long before it goes horribly wrong', 'what if I don't live up to it'_ — but still... in this one moment, sitting on the floor and talking about his piano and in the company of the  one person he trusts unconditionally... "I'm better. It's just very stupid."

He sees the movement, but it still takes him by surprise when the RK800 kneels down to sit himself between his feet and hug him. "Learn to take your own advice." Connor mutters as he hides his face in Markus' neck, "You ass."

It isn't as literal as it usually happens in their game of throwing one's words back at him, but with context it applies. Markus lets his eyes drift closed and rests his cheek against the RK800’s temple. He finally becomes able to track the feeling that he wasn’t quite able to place: _peace_.

Connor is the only person who makes him feel like he can actually rest his eyes –that even if _he’s_ not on top of everything all the time, he can trust Connor to do that for him.

It's both relieving and frightening –he has been struggling to accept that his mind is just as fragile and messed up a thing as his body is, but he can't fight the sheer warmth he feels upon seeing Connor reach out to him and pouring renewed strength into his very core.

Markus' eyes are still closed as he heaves a trembling sigh, but he still feels Connor tense under his breath.

"Sorry." He mutters, chuckling bitterly to himself, "How pathetic is this? I power through all the hard shit, then something good actually happens and I bawl my fucking eyes out."

"It can happen, if you've been through so much that even the notion of anything good coming into your life seems inconceivable." Connor should know, it's exactly what he felt when, after breaking his programming and surviving the raid, Markus forgave him. Trusted him, even.

Too good to be true, too good to last, too good not to end in death, tears or both.

Honestly, between a cathartic crying session and a nearly-suicidal expedition... Markus probably had the healthier reaction, psychologically speaking.

He feels one of the RK200's come up to the nape of his head and has to clear several spontaneous prompts –one urging him to gear his bodily functions up for fighting, of all things... he would wonder what he'd need the resulting higher efficiency in terms of strength, but there are other, very different prompts that suggest some rather _creative_ uses for that. Connor tries valiantly to stay perfectly still, but Markus' voice makes him turn minutely:

"Isn't that par for the course, for us?" He asks, whisper-quiet as his eyes take in Connor's features almost guiltily, as if he's looking at him for the first time and wasn't supposed to be allowed so up close. "The inconceivable..."

The RK800 doesn't know whether Markus just looked down in dejection or if he actually flicked his gaze down to his lips, but what he does know is that all the dialogue responses he was considering instantly evaporate. Does Markus still think that he doesn't deserve –or worse, shouldn't need— someone to comfort him? That taking up the mantle as the one to fight for their right means he has to live up to this unrealistic image of togetherness that people associate to leadership figures and anything less than that perfect standard must be shoved down and held back? Connor loathes the thought. He's had but a few glimpses of who Markus is as a whole, but he'd cry bitter tears at the thought of actually snuffing out the _fire_ that coils hot underneath the placid exterior. For every reasonable and non-violent choice, he _knows_ now, there had been wild doubts and brutal possibilities, explored, projected and tossed away in a matter of milliseconds, but still— they have been _there_. And they are as much a part of Markus as the shadow under his feet.

He wants to speak, to tell Markus how wrong he is, that there's nothing ‘inconceivable’ about the idea of people caring about him for who he is, loving him even — _'Just look at me!'_ he'd like to scream, _'I love you! I loved you before I even knew what love is!'_ — but no words come out of his mouth.

So he makes a choice: swallow all those words, and pour them directly into Markus' mouth instead.

Markus takes almost a second and a half to react, which is an eternity for prototypes like them, but when he does it almost makes the RK800 lose control of his voicebox. The hand behind Connor's head tangles and tightens in his hair, the other one comes up to the side of his neck to pull him in further and deepen the kiss, Markus' mouth opens for him easily, pliant and trusting and giving into the exploration with reckless abandon. Connor starts seeing the full list of biocomponents and materials he's tasting inside the other' mouth and purposefully shuts off the damn thing –he doesn't need the numbers, not on this. He much prefers learning of Markus' lips and tongue through the physicality of the experience.

And it is an experience –if there were ever moments of mystical realizations for androids, this is it for Connor: hidden away behind the altar of a ruined church, making out with the living embodiment of everything he had originally been taught to hunt down, and feeling the hot tendrils of thrill wrapping around him in the exact moment Markus' legs part further on the floor and slide around his sides.

There are _people_ in here, anyone could just lean over to ask a question and they would see them. They would see their precious leader, reduced to a shaking _mess_ on the floor with Connor kneeling between his legs and kissing his self-flagellating bullshit away.

For some reason, the thought spurs him on further, and he closes his fists in the fabric of Markus' overcoat, pressing closer into the embrace until—

—until his sound unit picks up on several footsteps echoing in the church's hallway. And they break apart in a quiet gasp.

Four people, unannounced but loud, and not bothering with discretion.

"You, with the blond hair. Where's Markus?"

 _Perkins_. The one son of a bitch rude enough to speak like that to an android in a place full of them, and arrogant enough to do so without fearing for his life.

Connor sees Markus touch his cheeks to check for tear tracks and feels the need to stop him. He can deal with that jackass for today. "Markus, you don't need to—" he tries in a whisper, but at the same time more voices echo through the hall.

"He has his own name, you know? It's—"

"Not the one who makes decision so I don't care."

North already sounded on the verge of punching the human while trying to be polite, if Markus doesn't put a stop to this now she'll jump at his throat. "Later." He simply whispers to Connor, the ghost of an apologetic smile coming and going faster than a human's blink.

"Actually..." he says, raising his voice as he emerges from their hiding spot -gone is the trembling mess that was in his arms, the RK200 is all dignified calm and effortless poise. "Simon is one of the people whose advice I trust the most, when making decisions." If Connor didn't know better, he would say that the rebel leader persona was completely and utterly fake, but he does know better and the truth is that Markus is just that complex and multifaceted a person, he has way more dimensions to his personality and his soul than what meets the eye. He steps out as well –for one second he feels the urge to double check himself to make sure he didn’t get too dishevelled while kissing Markus… rationally, he knows that all the humans’ eyes were instantly on him because of who and what he is; but he still straightens his shirt as covertly as he can manage.

“So, what can we do for you, agent Perkins?” he asks upon reaching the group –the RK200 has been making it a point of meeting the human halfway to the isle, a gesture that can be interpreted in two ways: either he’s showing humility by reaching out instead of waiting for others to come to him, or he’s asserting dominance and protecting his people as he doesn’t allow his visitor to reach past a certain point, _ever_.

Connor has the sneaking suspicion it’s both: Markus is a multitasker like that.

Perkins doesn’t yet dignify them with an answer, but lifts the briefcase he’s been carrying and holds it out for them. “Actually, I’m here to do something for _you_ this time.” Markus can’t quite stop the instinctive response, and the change in his expression makes the man scoff: “Yeah, don’t get too used to it.”

The RK200 doesn’t rise to the bait and just takes a cautious step forward. Connor realizes too late that he should stop Markus from opening it himself, because it could be rigged to explode, there could be any number of harmful things springing out of it, there could be— he’s getting paranoid. They wouldn’t let someone as under the spotlight as Perkins to carry out an assassination attempt. Right?

Seeing only paperwork and a disk-shaped device roughly the size of a man’s palm get revealed once the briefcase is opened, Connor chastises himself from getting so antsy.

“Cyberlife Tower is officially yours to do whatever it is you androids do with personal space.” Clearly, the FBI agent doesn’t really see why they would need it. Markus has the definite expression of someone who won’t bother trying to explain it to him and just takes the paperwork instead.

“Please, send my regards to Mrs Nelson.” Which is basically an elegant way of sending her a big fat ‘fuck you’, considering how much she cares for the free androids, “…and the device?”

“An additional token of _good faith_ , I’m told.” Perkins replies with a shrug. “I’ve been told to tell you that it’s an override component for RK900-specific machinery… if that means anything to you?”

It’s a bait. It’s such a blatant bait. But having it delivered by the FBI, having it called a ‘token of good faith’, they’ve put Markus in a position where he can’t refuse it.

He exchanges a look with Connor, before making a quick scan of the device –for all intents and purposes it looks legit, an override decoder for locking mechanisms, which should give them access to what could previously only be unlocked by human fingerprints, which in turn would mean Nines would actually have a feasible, fully compatible and stable means of sustaining himself. The couple of dormant functions that cannot be identified until activation are worrisome, but there can be any number of innocent explanations, along the darker ones.

Bottom line is— they _have_ to take it. So Markus does.

“Thank you, agent Perkins.” He says politely, “I’m sure you have _important_ duties to tend to now, so by all means, don’t let us keep you.”

Once more, an elegant and eloquent version of ‘fuck off’. Connor absolutely loves this side of Markus.

Perkins seems to have caught onto it as well, because he doesn’t return the pleasantry –he just scoffs at them both and turns tail.

“Say, maybe next time tell Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dumber to leave the rifles in the car!” North calls after him, “You know… _peaceful_ treaties and all that.”

As per usual, there’s a collective sigh of relief whenever that snake leaves the building. They’re all more or less covertly eyeing the device in Markus’ hands, not quite knowing what to do with it, until Simon speaks:

“I’ll go get Nines.”

“Is it a good idea? This will just agitate him more…”

The PL600 can’t hold back a smile at Connor’s words. “It’s sweet that you want to protect him, Connor…” he says, making the other blink slightly in surprise –‘sweet’ is _not_ a word he’d use to define himself— “But he should know.”

That much is true, however reluctant Connor might be to accept it –chaos and danger are always brought forth by ignorance, not knowledge. Also, with any luck Nines won’t go _too_ ballistic about it: he’s always a bit calmer if Simon is around –Simon’s gentle and affectionate demeanor does tend to have that effect on people. Case in point, no one tries to stop him as he goes to find the temperamental prototype.

And that’s how most of their days end –always more to do, more to find out, more to guard themselves from… Connor sighs— who knows when they’ll have the time to talk about stolen kisses in the shadows of collapsed walls?

The RK800 tries really hard to focus on something, anything else, but to no avail: he can feel the ghost of Markus’ lips on his own for the entire rest of the day.


	8. Cyber-zombie and a rude boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'd be dead without you, Connor."
> 
> "So would I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL.  
> REAL TALK. I FEEL LIKE A FUCKING LEGEND FOR SHOVING THIS OUTTA MY ASS IN 24 HOURS.  
> Less than that, even.
> 
> Either way.  
> Idek.  
> Just take this. Shit goes down.  
> Oh no wait, before we read anything, a few **WARNINGS!!!!**  
>  The fic is already rated M so it shouldn't be unexpected, but there's **some very mild gore (or body horror? not sure tbh but it's kinda gross)** at about a third of the chapter, then I must inform our lovely audience that when we get to the fun part this chapter will feature **bottom Markus and top Connor** , because I 100% believe they're versatile and take turns but top-Markus gets like 90% of the screen time, so... this is me doing my humble part to even the score.  
> Finally, the boys engage in some **mild blood play** , mostly on Connor's part because that motherfucker won't stop licking things.
> 
> THERE WE GO Y'ALL HAVE BEEN WARNED.  
> Read at your own discretion.
> 
>  
> 
> ...pls love me.

 Connor would be a liar if he said he wasn’t obsessing over Markus’ “Later.”

What did he mean? Did he mean they’d talk about his issues, later on? Did he mean talking about the fact that they just kissed during his mental breakdown?

Did he perhaps mean that ‘later’ they could pick up where they left off?

The RK800 would be, quite frankly, down for any of the three.

But, as always, they have other priorities.

To be completely honest, Connor didn't think he'd get so attached to his younger counterpart, assuming there would always be an underlying discomfort at having to share a home with someone literally built to be better than you –he isn't sure this is a thing he developed upon waking up or if it had always been there lurking under the spoon-fed company line of _'I always accomplish my mission'_ , but fact is that he's got quite an ego when it comes to competence and abilities. It's because of that sense of pride that he thought he would still feel strung up in his interaction with Nines... instead, he finds himself looking out for his brother, a man programmed to withstand both humanity and android kind at their worst but with no life experience to support that skillset. Nines is painfully rational, cold and almost amoral in his relentless pursuit of the efficient and the practical –but he's also incredibly naive, saying and doing things because he has never known any better, asking questions that would have an obvious answer for anyone who'd let themselves feel the world around them at least once and still trying to apply logic and numbers to the reality of being alive.

It feels possibly too familiar to Connor.

He probably doesn't have much room to talk, having been a deviant for maybe two weeks longer and no more, but he was overall made to be adaptable. When the wall came down, he was fast to forego the rigid compartmentalized ways of reasoning that served him in his previous missions in favor of thinking on the fly –which made for an almost smooth transition into learning how to deal with emotional responses even without a rational basis.

Nines is not quite there yet, and nearly destroys the device on sight when they tell him what it does. It takes both him and Markus talking the RK900 down while Simon physically pushes against his chest to keep him away to calm Nines enough to consider the possibilities.

As soon as the FBI left they _did_ scan the device left right and center, and by all means the specifics are legit, save for the two dormant subroutines that cannot be identified without activation.

“I still don’t like it.” Nines makes it known even as they make plans about when to go and what to bring.

“I know, but as advanced and well-made as you are, there’s still a limit to your retro-compatibility… get damaged one too many times and we wouldn’t be able to get you back to full health anymore.” By now they only let Simon try and dissuade Nines from things: while Connor is sarcastic but overall amicable, Nines seems to make it a point to be contrary to almost anything, for the sake of having strong opinions –a fact possibly amplified because he’s only recently even learned that he _can_ have opinions.

He makes an exception for sweet, gentle Simon, though.

North says they’re adorable. Connor fears for Simon’s life sometimes. Markus has a bet going with Josh but won’t tell Connor what it’s about.

“Let’s just hope this won’t be one of those ‘I told you so’ situations.”

Markus chuckles to himself at the RK900’s words. “If I had worried about that, I’d never have gotten anything done.”

The only one who gets the joke is Connor, and they eventually agree on gearing up and heading out to properly repossess the Tower the following day.

 

Cyberlife Tower doesn’t look so intimidating anymore, now that it’s officially _theirs_ , and in the next few weeks they’ll start working on it to make a living space out of the above-ground floors and keep all the maintenance downstairs but make it android-friendly.

For now, they have a specific job to do. This will be the final stepping stone to Nines’ full independence from any human hand.

It’s only once they reach floor -14 again that Nines hesitates in his step. Connor can relate –it’s not easy to set foot willingly back into your cage, however broken the constraints might be. “You’re ok.” He assures his brother, “No one is here to take you back. You’re safe. _We’re_ here.”

Markus couldn’t be more proud of Connor if he tried, while Simon covertly holds out his hand for Nines to hold, if he needs to.

Turns out the RK900 does need to, and the tell-tale whitening of an open interface makes Josh nudge Markus slightly and mouth _‘Fine, you win’_ to him.

Connor is even more curious about what the bet entails –but Nines seems good to go, now, and they head into the training facility. The signs of the scuffle are still there –the broken shooting aisle, the scattered crowbar and supplies… the traces of evaporated thirium that only Connor and Nines can still see.

They walk up to the maintenance docking station and activate the touchpad to turn it on –and it does display the waiting screen for a human hand print.

Markus puts the device on his palm and then splays it flat against the screen –for some reason, Cyberlife made the device with vocal recognition, and only Markus stating his model and serial number can activate it. Probably as a gesture of spite, to undermine the two detective prototypes and remind them that they _don’t_ get to decide things. He nods at the two prototype brothers and steels himself.

“RK200, serial number #684 842 971. Activate locking mechanism override.”

 _«Voice command recognized.»_ the recorded voice in the device declares, and it blinks to life as a series of instructions get poured into the maintenance station’s screen.

The blinking light from the lock goes from red to green, but the device doesn’t stop whirring.

Not until Markus cries out in pain and slumps on the floor, disk clattering away and sparking as it is now devoid of any charge.

“Markus!!!” Connor is by his side in less than a second.

The RK200 convulses before his chest starts heaving, taking deep breaths because his cooling cycle is being corrupted by the interference.

_» System Error. Primary functions corrupted. Manual interface override needed._

“The device— corrupted my— it _hu_ rts…”

A scrambler. The dormant function was a scrambler program designed to interfere with an android’s primary functions and disable them –a subduing protocol originally implemented in police aid androids, later removed from production because it had side effects on the androids who activated it as well and the cost of replacing units was getting too high. It worked on humans too, simply electrocuting them –that probably also played a big part in taking away that sort of weapon from androids.

Luckily for them, Connor does have the schematics on how to disable the scrambler’s effects and restore functionality. He’s going to have to act fast: model compatibility is a primary function for androids, and Markus’ body will start rejecting his scavenged parts if they don’t stop the disruption soon.

Not to mention the draining of his energy and corrupting of his system permanently, going well beyond any possible repair.

“Look at me. What is your name?” He asks, fighting the urge to look away as thirium starts oozing from Markus’ right eye-socket and his leg darken at the knee –thirium must be soaking his legs too. It already started, his body doesn’t recognize itself anymore and is tearing itself apart from the inside. Blue stains already can be seen soaking through his shirt as well – _shit._ That’s right Markus’ thirium pump regulator was scavenged from a compatible body, too. They have _less than a minute and a half_ until Markus shuts down.

The RK200 is trembling even as Connor takes him in his arms and rests Markus’ head on his lap. “M-my name… is Markus Manfred…”

 _Manfred._ The surname of the man he considers a father. A thought crosses the RK800’s mind that almost freezes the thirium running through him: Markus thinks he’s going to die here.

 _Not on my watch._ “Markus, _yes_ , look at me.” He nearly wants to cry when the green eye moves, but the blue one, soaked in dense blue blood, takes half a second to follow, blinking thirium droplets away first. Connor holds out his hand, skin retracting to initiate the process. “I’m going to interface with you to disable the scrambler program. Do I have your consent?”

_» System Error. Interfacing protocols disrupted. Energy discharge needed. Proceed with interface? Y/N_

Markus can barely focus on keeping himself alive, but out of all the errors blaring at his interface that’s the one that scares him the most. He’s been _rigged_. The next android to interface with him will be brutally electrocuted. Everything hurts –he would have never thought androids could experience actual, mind-numbing pain. It almost feels like the corpses he stole these parts from are extracting their revenge now, gnawing at his circuits from the inside and whispering _‘not yours’_ at the back of his mind. Rationally, he knows it’s just his system compatibility having been forcibly shut off, but… it still feels like karma.

That’s how a cybernetic zombie dies. Pulled apart, piece by piece.

He will _not_ let Connor sacrifice himself to fix him, assuming it would at all work. “My name… is Markus Manfred… I’m an RK200 prototype… and I… _do not_ consent…”

Connor feels his heart shatter. “Markus please… it will work, I promise…”

The RK200 feebly shakes his head. “I… _do not_ consent…”

At this point, the guys have also gathered around. “Why, Markus? Talk to us, what’s wrong with your interface?” Josh asks, not believing that the device could have fried him _that_ much already.

Simon has to close his eyes and turn his head away when Markus’ legs twitch and convulse, jeans soaked through and blue from the knee down, and he starts _sparking_ at the joints and at the corner of his right eye-socket.

“Damn it, Markus stop being stubborn! We have to do something!”

“I… _do not_ consent…” he repeats, shaking his head at North, eyes darting furiously around him as if to find a solution that is not in sight. “ScrAMbler… rigGed… to kiLL you if— nO. I _do nOt_ consent…”

His speech is getting impaired with static. They need to act faster. _«_ _Markus, please… you know you can tell me anything. Please, don’t do this to yourself…_ _»_

 _«The device was rigged to make me discharge a massive amount of energy upon the next opening of my interface. It will electrocute you. My life doesn’t have more value than yours.»_ It’s surreal to hear him lucid and as determined as always through their shared network, when his body is actually reduced to little more than a seizing, bleeding out mess.

_«We can work it out! We can… we can…»_

For the first time in his life, Connor has no idea what to do. He’d sacrifice himself for Markus, no questions asked, but he doesn’t know for certain he’d have enough time to save the RK200 before meeting his end on the other side. He feels his interface warm up to the point of malfunctioning, and his optical units start releasing tears to cool down.

He’s crying. He doesn’t want to lose Markus. Not without _telling_ him. “Markus… love, please… don’t do this…”

Suddenly, Nines kneels down by Connor’s side and offers his right hand already devoid of skin: “Interface with me at the same time. I’ll absorb half of the shock.”

Markus still shakes his head again. _«So two of you die, instead of one? Nines, no.»_

But there’s an idea. Simon crouches down next to Nines as well, linking hands with the RK900 with no hesitation. “It’s going to be okay, Markus. We’re here for you”

“We’re not just gonna let you die, not like that.” Josh is next, grabbing Simon’s other hand and extending the other to North.

“You can actually count on us, you stubborn ass.” She says, grabbing Josh’s hand and splaying her free hand on the floor, to give electricity an outlet towards the ground, “So don’t even _think_ about dying on us like that!”

Connor laces his fingers with Markus. “Do I have your consent?”

He can’t tell if Markus is crying because of an emotional reaction or of the stress his body is being put through, but he feels his heart get instantly lighter when he hears the words:

“My nAMe… is MaRkus… and I… giVE my consEnt…”

_Oh thank you, God._

The energy discharge is painful enough that it nearly makes Connor lose focus, but it gets instantly distributed between all four of them and expelled to the ground.

Connor has the disruptor protocols isolated and destroyed in under a second. 0.670 seconds, to be exact. _'Not on my fucking watch, Cyberlife'._

Markus stops convulsing with a gasp, and he blinks furiously, both clearing his interface from the fading, crazed errors jumping around his vision and to blink away the tears and thirium from his eye sockets.

"There you are..." Connor doesn't seem to care about that, letting his tears still flow freely as he smiles and holds Markus' hand in his still. "There you are..." he lets go of his brother's hand to bring his now free one to Markus' face, brushing away the blue blood and tears, "Don't ever _dare_ do that to me again! We're in this _together_ , you hear me?"

"I'm sorry..."

North sits back, slumping down with a sigh of relief while Josh also thinks to give Markus some space and leans back to pat North on the shoulder in shared reassurance. Simon straight up hides his face in Nines' chest, having no problems in releasing his tension through tears. And everybody knows Nines gives great hugs.

Markus is still a bit out of it, so Connor runs a diagnostic himself to see how he's doing.

 _»_ _System diagnostic..._

 _»_ _Minor damage detected. Self-repair in progress._

 _»_ _Core systems: 74%_

 _»_ _Corrupted mind palace. Function overridden on 06/11/2038 – 03:35AM_

 _»_ _Optical unit: 92.6%. Right eye repair in progress._

 _»_ _Sound unit: 100%_

 _»_ _Motor functions: 88%. Right and left leg components repair in progress._

 _»_ _Energy levels: 34%. Recharge recommended._

 _»_ _Thirium levels: 40% - Thirium intake advised._

 

That's... a lot of repairs. Connor also never knew it was possible to just override your own mind palace—well, he discovered _that_ when he found the emergency exit on the night of the march, but he didn't think anyone else would figure out on their own. And there Markus goes, probably doing it on instinct alone, even.

He doesn't fight the urge to smile. "You're ok, love. You're ok..." he says, more to himself than to Markus, "I'm going to get you home, get some thirium in you, and when you're all better you'll play the piano for me."

"The controls... Nines..."

"It worked, Markus." The RK900 assures, still comforting Simon, "My station is fully operative right now. We'll take care of everything else."

North, Josh and Simon seem to be still slightly shell-shocked –Connor guesses it's understandable: they've never seen Markus so vulnerable. Now that it hit them in the face, they also have to deal with the realization of how _hard_ it must have been for the RK200 to look immutable and invulnerable, even under all the pressure he was subjected to.

" _Guys_!"  The RK800 calls, startling them out of their daze. "Let's split up. Three of us will do a once-over of this place, make sure Cyberlife hasn't messed with anything else. Possibly start moving some of our techs here by late afternoon. I'll take one person with me and we'll get Markus back up to 100%."

Simon offers to help with that. "I can come with you."

"Good. Let's move."

Josh and North get up from the floor and exchange a nod as they start to walk around, but Connor observes his brother help the PL600 up and share a few hushed whispers.

"Be careful, ok?"

"I know. Will do."

His sound unit picks up the words, largely unremarkable in and of themselves. What is remarkable about the exchange is the _tone_ and the _looks_.

Huh. Maybe he understands what bet has Markus just won. Ever the empath, he sees the things that no one else would. Connor shakes his head –and yet he’s almost blind to the same type of feelings when they are directed towards himself… cognitive bias. How very… alive.

Well. He’s still reeling from having almost lost Markus, life spilling in blue down his fingers. If he has to spell it out for the RK200, he goddamn _will_.

 

The way back to the abandoned building housing Markus' hidden alcove passes by the church; and Connor wishes he could be more surprised when he sees an unpleasantly familiar black car parked in the vicinity.

_Perkins and his men._

Connor has one thought: they are _done_. Cyberlife is _done_ as well.

They have no legal rights yet, sure, but they are in the middle of talks for that with Madam President herself and if the word got out that Cyberlife attempted to assassinate Markus a war would explode, the veritable android uprising humans worked so hard to avoid.

And the public opinion would be on their side this time, thanks to the interview that just aired this morning and portrayed Markus as the loveable, charming person that he is.

This is blackmail material for anything they can ever want. And Perkins, stupid asshole that he is, still looks cocky just because Markus is visibly wounded, leaning heavily on Connor and walking with an arm slung across the RK800's shoulders.

"Well, well... how did it go?"

Connor was about to hand Markus' care over to Simon and strangle this motherfucker with his bare hands, but the RK200 steps forward himself, squaring his back, however shakily, and fixes a glare on the human, the thirium still staining his right eye making the whole sclera shine of intense blue and giving him the eerie, nightmarish appearance humans had tried to pin on him when he first rose from the ashes. "Listen to me, you _glorified postman._ " He growls out, with a firm but hushed tone that gives Connor shivers just hearing it –both good ones and bad ones, that's how _pissed_ Markus is— "I'm low on charge, sore all over and 100% _done with bullshit._ If you have something to say, say it before I decide to _rearrange your facial features with five fingers of metal._ " He clenches his right fist for clarification on that part.

There it is. There's the beast that lurks underneath the calm and poised exterior. If Connor wasn't already heads over heels, he'd fall for Markus right here and now.

"My, my... you've got a mouth on you!" The FBI agent mocks, still looking at him in distaste, "Aside from the fact that you hardly look in any condition to make good on your threat... I thought you were a _pacifist_?"

"He is. But he was also just now the target of an assassination attempt, perpetrated by Cyberlife and facilitated by you." Connor steps up and intercepts the conversation when Markus wobbles slightly on his feet and Simon comes by his side to support him. "Several androids saw you hand him the device in the church yesterday, and four more androids today saw the same device nearly kill him in Cyberlife Tower. None of us are able to testify in court, but what do you think will happen to the FBI's reputation if the CCTV footage of such an attempt on Markus' life were to be televised?" With the Tower empty and the control rooms deserted, Connor hadn't bothered hacking the surveillance when they first broke in. For weeks he'd been second-guessing himself, obsessing over whether that was a mistake or not, but now... now he's _so_ glad. This is perfect. They can _destroy_ Cyberlife. "And what will happen to Cyberlife? When word gets out that they risked a full-blown civil war on American soil, almost ruining the peace talks that Madam President herself has ordered? Just for the sake of having a shot on the leader of the _peaceful_ protests?" A visit to Elijah Kamski might be a good idea now. The grounds are SO ripe for a corporate takeover.

Perkins doesn't outwardly show worry, but his shoulders sag slightly, as does the confidence in his speech. "What do you suggest, then?"

"I _suggest_... that you crawl back to the bureau you came from, and tell your superiors that due to your involvement with the attempt on Markus' life, ‘ _accidental’_ or otherwise, you're no longer fit to act as a handler between the free androids and your people." Connor tells him coldly, glare sharpening to such harsh iciness that the two armed guard at Perkins' side step back in fear. "This can be your insightful decision or a direct order from a superior, after it gets leaked to the media that an FBI agent made themselves an accomplice for _murder_ and the press has a field trip about it. Your choice." It's an olive branch that this asshole doesn't deserve, but it paves the way for Connor's next demand: "I _suggest_ that you tell the DPD that Lieutenant Hank Anderson is the only man the free androids will trust as a handler. And finally, I _suggest_ that you tell your superiors that another meeting between us, the White House liaison in Detroit and a Cyberlife representative is _strongly advised_. Soon." He allows himself a smirk as he adds an afterthought: "After all, things like this end up leaked to the news all the time, who knows how long before a nosy reporter procures themselves some interesting tapes?"

Markus' face is dirty with tear streaks and drying thirium, but he still smirks at the sight: there's _his_ Connor. He's got the goddamn FBI by the balls like it's his day job. In a way, he guesses it is –he originally was a negotiator, after all.

Perkins clears his voice, trying oh so hard not to sound like he swallowed an entire lemon. "I'll... put forward your requests." He doesn't have much more to say, as he nods at his men to get back into the car.

"Yes, great." Connor all but grunts, unable to keep the dismissive tone out of his voice anymore. "Now _fuck off_."

 

It isn't until they're alone and safe in the confines of the rooftop alcove that Connor stops fuming in anger. The _nerve_ of those assholes. Oh, there'll be a reckoning. They thought they could just take Markus from him like that? Well they can fucking think again. Looking at the RK200 as he is now is equal parts relieving and terrifying. His legs and eye are soaked in thirium, and so is his chest. The polymer skin around his right eye has darkened from when he started sparking, and it'll be a few hours before it returns to normal. "How are you feeling, Markus?" He asks, even though he's almost afraid to know, as he sets the other down gently on the piano bench and reaches for the art supplies next to it –Connor grabs a rag and wets it slightly with acqua-ragia, just a few drops to wipe the thirium off Markus' cheeks.

"Better." Markus says, closing his eyes and relaxing under the familiar, welcomed touch. "The self-repair is almost complete." Truth to be told, some things will never fully repair –his optical functionality will forever cap at 96.4% because of the permanent damage from shoving a compatible unit through his eye-socket like a fucking skee-ball. Also, Markus will probably never forget the sensation of almost dying like that: for a few, dreadful moments he was back in the junkyard, coming apart at the seams and eaten by the vultures passing judgment on his twisted, scavenged form. But... Connor pulled him back. His voice reached through the darkness and called to him –all of them did. He _does_ feel better. Actually, he feels like he wants to take this moment of quiet alone with Connor and drag it out as much as possible. Markus looks at the android in front of him with half-lidded, lost eyes. Thinks of all that could be and that almost never was. "I... can't tell you how thankful I am that you're here, Connor. I'd be dead without you."

Coming from Markus looking at him like _that_ , like he's this shining beacon of light come to pull him out of the shadows, it feels entirely too reminiscent of Harts Plaza. Entirely too reminiscent of the time he almost _shot_ Markus.

"...so would I." He says, before his core brain can convince his lips not to. "If on that night I hadn't found my way back in time... if I had opened my eyes to find you dead at my feet... I would have shot myself, right then and there."

Markus' chest heaves a sigh. "I'm not worth that sacrifice—"

"You _are_ , Markus." This time, Connor takes a rougher approach. He grabs the RK200's face at the sides, even as he is still kneeling in front of him, and shoves himself in Markus' personal space -enough of this martyr bullshit. "You're worth _everything_. And not because of some bullshit world peace ideal. I'm so much more selfish than that—" he can't even finish his own words without tipping forward to leave a quick, rough kiss on Markus' lips, "You're everything, because I want you with me.” He whispers, lips still brushing the other’s. “I want you like I've never wanted anything before, and you were the first ever creature to make me _want_ anything at all."

"Connor, you—"

He doesn't let Markus finish the question: "Yes." Connor whispers firmly, turning his head to pepper little kisses on his jaw and neck.

Markus tilts his neck to let him in further, and one hand goes to tangle in the RK800's hair. "You don't have to do this for—"

"Shut the _fuck_ up and let me take care of you." It's taken watching Markus nearly die, again, for Connor to decide that he doesn't want to wait until his opportunity is lost to show Markus what he really feels.

The RK200 chuckles, and the low vibration of laughter under Connor's lips serves only to spur him on further. "You –ah— just don't want to listen to me talk."

"Not unless it's going to be screams of my name, no." He growls it low and dangerous, with his mouth just brushing the part of Markus' neck where the sound unit is.

"You'll have to deserve that."

"I said shut up." They probably shouldn't do it –Markus is still weak, not at 100% power and with both energy charge and thirium levels very low; plus they've both been through acute emotional distress and are possibly not completely in control of themselves.

"Why don't you _make me_?" But that's why it's feeling _so right_ — Connor needs to feel Markus at his fingertips, to claim back the control that he had always been denied in the past and seize the one thing he ever wanted for himself, while Markus needs to let go, to not have to worry of everyone else, and even leave himself to the care of someone else -someone he trusts with his life. Someone like Connor.

The thought that Markus has let him this far into his soul makes the RK800's very core pulsate with warmth, the thirium in his artificial veins feels faster, stronger, like it needs an outlet or it will explode. "Oh, I don't think you can take it." He replies to the other's sultry taunt.

Markus is barely even coherent, and yet he seems to have fully embraced the shift in mood, smirking when Connor leans back up until they're nose to nose and just barely pecking at his lips as he whispers: " _Bring it_."

Fire lights up in the RK800's eyes. _Careful what you wish for._ Connor lets his hands caress their way over Markus' shoulders, then down his thirium-soaked chest and finally to his hips.

He stays there for a moment, holding the other delicately, almost reverently, eyes roaming over the body in his arms –the blue blood staining him everywhere makes him look almost grotesque, like the high tech monster that humans were so afraid of, but he still looks beautiful to Connor.

Everything about his life up to meeting Markus had been clean-cut, fitted perfectly in neat little squares –orders, missions, actions and results. But not this. Not Markus. Markus is raw, exposed, messy and so, so very beautiful. Connor could swear he can feel himself falling more and more with every passing second.

He makes a decision: sliding his hands just under Markus' thighs, he heaves up and sits the other on the piano keys, a jumbled mess of notes ringing out as the only protest from the instrument. "Arms up." He orders, and has to bite his lips at how readily Markus obeys.

His torso is a complete mess, drying blue lines on his skin leaking from unseen cracks, now that the polymer skin has returned to cover the whole area. Connor should probably pick up the rag and clean it off. But he doesn't. He leans forward and ducks his head, kissing Markus' chest right over where the thirium pump regulator is –he smiles against the stained polymer skin when he feels said pump change speed, in response to an emotional or physical reaction. Or both, considering the way one of Markus' hands dives into his hair and the tented shape of his jeans. Connor's lips come back stained blue. He licks them out of habit.

The analysis tells him nothing that he doesn't already know -and nothing of what actually matters right now, like the fact that Markus feels delicious under his lips, despite the lack of any taste buds- so he shuts it off. The RK200 is pliant and waiting beneath his hands, and Connor makes sure to worship every single exposed inch, taking his sweet damn time tracing patterns with his fingers and then following them with his lips, teeth or tongue, until Markus is practically trembling in anticipation and muttering incoherent little gasps in his ears, like " _please_ ", or " _oh, there_ " and his favorite so far: " _fuck, Connor..._ "

It's not until Markus decides he's had enough and tries to take matters into his own hands that the RK800 actually gets started: Markus's hands go to the front of his shirt, trying to tug it open, buttons be damned; and Connor is all too happy to oblige.

Markus doesn't even bother trying to slide it off all the way, he just slips his hands inside it and goes to splay them on the RK800's shoulder-blades to pull him closer.

The friction that ensues nearly short-circuits them both.

"Jeans off." Markus demands in a gasp, "Or I swear to any higher power listening I'll rip them off you _with my teeth_."

The things Markus' voice does to Connor's core, sounding so impatient, an urgency that's a perfect mixture of needing and commanding... make the RK800 lick his lips some more –he _really_ wants to fling himself at Markus and straight up devour him, but he also wants to savour this. He splays both hands just under the RK200's sternum and drags them down his abdomen, uncaring of the thirium that stains them and carefully undoing the fly of the already ruined trousers –or perhaps indulging in it even, making Markus into the canvas for once and painting him with the very fuel in his veins.

Markus' touch sensors light up like a goddamn Christmas tree under that touch. So deceptively delicate, and yet going right for his prize in merciless pleasure. The same hands that could and _have_ taken enemies down in a matter of mere seconds. He shudders. "Fuck..." he hisses, "You could take me apart right here, and I wouldn't even know what hit me, wouldn’t I?” he asks, hips bucking when Connor’s hands tighten around his waist –if his skin wasn’t self-repairing, he’d have bruises for days. Isn’t _that_ a thought. “You have that superior eyesight of yours, you know exactly what to pull and where to strike. How easy would it be to _murder_ me, even with my tongue down your throat?”

That’s it. Connor’s done. Gloves are off, he’s going to take Markus and fuck him raw against the goddamn piano. “I thought I told you to _stop_ saying things like that, _fuck—_ ”

“And I thought I told you to fucking _make me, hunter._ ” Fuck, that brings Connor right back to Jericho, and— even back then, Markus’ voice did _things_ to his core that his mind, still hard-wired to despise and dismiss deviancy, couldn’t understand at the time, but now he knows. Arousal. “So… are you going to get serious or not? Is this all you’ve got?”

_Who the fuck uses a bedroom voice to talk down a trained assassin sent to kill them?_

There’s probably something to be said about the both of them, in the way they bring up their ‘enemy’ personas into foreplay, but Connor can’t bring himself to care: not with Markus obediently letting him slide the jeans down his thighs, just enough to be able to do this, not as the RK200 eagerly unbuttons _his_ trousers with what little motor functions he’s regained from his self-repair.

 _Shit_ , Markus is basically still half-dead and he’s regardless letting Connor have at him like they’re fighting for their lives. He doesn’t know what it is between that sheer amount of pure trust and Markus’ thirium-soaked legs wrapping around him that excites him more.

_His hands are already slick with blue blood._

Broken piano notes and jumbled chords echo out in the air around them when Markus slams both his fists on the keys and arches almost clean off the instrument when Connor enters him.

Androids don’t experience physical pleasure as humans do –they have pressure sensors to let their bodies know that they are being touched, a certain threshold of ‘pain’ to avoid tearing themselves apart accidentally, and a whole range of sensitivities that react to different stimuli, like pressure, temperature and the like.

 _Pleasure_ , though, had been deemed to complex a thing to recreate artificially. But that’s where deviancy comes through for them –the same casual segments of code that before were dismissed and deleted while now they turn into body language, also send physical and emotional responses to ancillary subroutines; and they vary for every android.

Markus, apparently, likes being grabbed by the legs and getting fucked hard and fast. So that’s what Connor does. He braces one knee on the piano bench, lets the other foot stay planted firmly on the floor and starts moving. In and out, picking up speed and force until he feels himself smacking against Markus at every thrust. Piano notes groan and resound with every push, but even if it _wasn’t_ just a mess of scrambled notes, it _still_ wouldn’t hold a candle to the symphony coming out of Markus’ mouth.

Every little gasp, every _‘fuck, Connor…’_ and every unrestrained moan, so close to his sound unit from where Markus is keeping his lips against the RK800’s neck only adds fuel to that fire. As an inherently tactile creature, Markus reaches forward to place his hands on both of Connor’s cheeks, in a gesture uncharacteristically tender, compared to the harsh and almost crazed pace they’re having sex at.

Connor lets himself enjoy that caress for a moment, turning his face to the right and kissing the palm of Markus’ hand, before he picks up speed and strength even more, using one hand to wrap around the other’s cock and start working him at the same merciless, unrelenting rhythm.

Markus brusquely arches back until his shoulder-blades are resting on top of the piano.

“You’re so... god _damn_ beautiful…” Connor manages to choke out, splaying his free hand on the RK200’s chest.

Markus rests his own hand on Connor’s and for a second he thinks it’s to pry it away, but no. The RK200 lets the skin of his hand retract and opens his interface.

Connor reacts to it without a moment’s hesitation and suddenly it’s all _there._ He can feel everything that Markus is feeling, the physical feedback loop alone almost making him lose his mind –but it’s the emotional reactions that really get him. The biting, almost desperate desire for closeness, the boundless trust, the _thrill_ at the mere idea of putting his whole life in Connor’s hands… It’s true— he _could_ technically rip out the thirium pump now that Markus is so exposed and distracted. It would be so _easy_. His model was made to adapt to _any_ situation, and as such, even when engaged in sexual intercourse a small secondary process is still giving him awareness of his actions and surroundings to have the fastest reaction time in case of need—

Then Markus comes undone calling his name, and everything in Connor’s mind fades to white noise, except _yes, more,_ and _Markus._

_Markus._

_Markus._

Several errors are still fading from his interface when Connor blinks his eyes open. His internal clock tells him that 6 minutes and 43 seconds have passed, and he has no recollection of anything except static in his head and the feeling of coming apart at the seams inside Markus. Like an animal.

And now they’re _both_ covered in thirium.

Markus doesn’t seem to mind –he only breaks the interface to push himself back up in a sitting position. Connor barely has the time to pull himself out before he’s enveloped in a hug. This is so surreal.

They’re both still quite literally half-naked, he’s just fucked the RK200 raw and yet this might be the sweetest moment of Connor’s entire existence. Markus leans his forehead against Connor’s, letting his eyes drift closed. “I’m gonna say it now, while I still have the guts to.”

Oh shit. Is this the ‘later’ Connor was so nervously anticipating? They haven’t talked about it, they’d never talked about _any_ of the lingering tension between them. “…yes?”

“I love you.”

An explosion would have had less of an impact on Connor. Typical Markus— to the point, with no embellishment, and always going first. So brave, this one. Even as he still thinks Connor only did this to comfort him, he bared his feelings just like that.

Connor can’t help but kiss the pout on that lower lip and bite at it lightly. “You have no idea how much I _craved_ hearing those words leave your mouth.” He whispers, bringing his hands around Markus’ waist to cradle him close and keep him there. In his arms, where he _belongs_. “I love you too.”


	9. Side effects to one hell of a ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey. I'm North, I can show you around. If anyone gives you grief, come straight to me, I'm the baddest bitch in here."
> 
> She falls into step with Connor just as he smirks at her. "Would you care to test that?"
> 
> "Anywhere, anytime, _big boy_." She winks as she throws Connor's past grandstanding to Nines back in the RK800's face.
> 
> "How many times do I have to ask you guys _not_ to antagonize each other?"
> 
> ....just another day in Jericho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY GOD IT'S BEEN LIKE OVER A WEEK THAT WAS DISHONORABLY SLOW.
> 
> But, hopefully you all will forgive me since we had two Cat Lad chapters in the meantime ♥
> 
> Either way.  
> There's probably spelling/grammar mistakes that have escape my first superficial check, but I'll reread this bitch tomorrow morning and see what I can find.  
> Feel free to point out any glaringly obvious things. ♥
> 
> That said, I love you all.  
> See y'all in a couple days ♥ ♥ ♥

 

Connor is feeling a bit dazed after the... cathartic experience they just had, but it's nothing compared to Markus' condition— coming to think of it, this was a monumentally _bad_ idea; it was reckless and irresponsible! He could have hurt Markus, caused further damage to his already wounded and vulnerable form, the state he was in is _not_ fit for—

"Stop thinking so hard."

But _oh_ , it feels so right, especially with the way the RK200 hugs him from behind and kisses the nape of his neck.

"Markus, come on..." Connor turns into the embrace and reluctantly peels the other's hand from his body, "I have to put my clothes back on."

"Well, you don't really _have_ to."

So low thirium levels and depleted energy charge cause loss of inhibition, on top of dizziness and lethargic movement and reflex response. Interesting.

He really needs to get Markus up to 100%. "Where's your charging station anyway?"

"It's... back at Carl's."

There's a slightly sobering pause at that.

For one, this explains why Markus has always been at sub-optimal potential as long as Connor has known him: he was made not to need charging for months on end even, but he got shot, led a revolution, jumped off a boat, got shot at some more, then nearly died of electrocution and simultaneously got his primary functions scrambled by a leech program.

And in all of this he hasn't gone back to charge _once_.

There's another important implication in this fact, though: Markus has left his charging station where it is because he still considers Carl Manfred family. They never really talked about it, but Connor has seen glimpses of Carl beyond the junkyard, back when they interfaced for the first time.

The RK800's thought processes get suddenly side-tracked when his touch sensors register Markus getting handsy again. "Hey." He sighs as he gently grasps the other's hands and pries them away from his belt, meeting the lips coming for his half-way but not letting it go any further than a chaste peck. "Come on. Let's go get some thirium in you and tell the others you're going to stay at Carl's today."

 

The walk to the church is blessedly short and easy –Markus is pliant in his arms and lets Connor support him by one shoulder– the hard part is explaining to their friends what the hell is up with him.

North is as confused as the guys when they see the uncaringly dishevelled state Markus stands in, still half draped over Connor's shoulder and seemingly with no intention of untangling himself from the RK800 anytime soon. "I thought you took him aside to fill his thirium levels?"

Connor doesn't quite know how to answer that.

"Oh, he filled _something_ alright." Three pairs of eyes simultaneously widen at the words leaving Markus' mouth in a low giggle while he just leans more into Connor's space to try and leave a kiss on the side of his neck.

Nines, who doesn't look surprised at all, just shoots a mildly disgusted look to his brother. "I was _going_ to ask why you're blue all over, but... you're gross." Connor technically isn't blue anymore, but the RK detective line is indeed equipped with the superior kind of sight that lets them see thirium even after it evaporates.

Connor is more embarrassed than he'd like to admit at being exposed like that. "Shut up. It just happened."

"While he had open wounds and fried subroutines?"

"Hey, _I'm_ not complaining." Markus doesn't seem fazed in the least –the RK800 wonders whether that will change once he manages to get him sobered up, but for now he just lets his lover lean against the altar and goes to get a couple bottles of thirium for him.

"Here, drink this." Thankfully, dizzy post-orgasm Markus is much more obedient than his usual stubborn, freedom-loving self, so Connor can simply sit back. "You will probably feel dazed and lethargic until we can get your charge back up, but getting your thirium level to at least 75% should give you back most of your hand-eye and physical reflexes... it's still imperative that we— what?"

"...you got pretty hair." Markus has been watching his lips move the entire time, but he was only half-listening. Ok, it _is_ kind of endearing.

North is outright laughing at them, Simon is struggling not to and Josh just shakes his head. "Please. Get him back to 100% as soon as possible." He says, "Then look after yourself as well. We all sustained minor damage and are self-repairing right now, but you took the brunt of the shock. Run a quick diagnostic as soon as Markus is safe and charging. Promise?"

Nodding, Connor motions for Markus to take his arm again. “Come on.”

“Are we gonna see Carl now?” his speech is not slurred anymore, but he still sounds almost half-asleep.

“Yes, we’re going to see Carl, now.”

"Good. He's gonna love you."

Markus is arguably not processing information at a high enough capacity to know that, but even if he was Connor still becomes suddenly aware of the stereotypical 'meeting the parents' concept used by humans so often as a comical narrative exploit. Logically he knows that there's nothing daunting about getting to know the only family his significant other has. Emotionally... well, he's not as scared as the guys in romance movies, but he does hope Carl will like him.

_«Alarm deactivated. Welcome home Markus.»_

"Register guest RK800, serial number #313 248 317 – 51, designated name 'Connor'. Permanent." Surprisingly, the RK200 has the presence of spirit to input Connor into the house system before the security query even comes up.

_«Instructions saved. Welcome, Connor.»_

"Isn't that dangerous?" The RK800 finds himself asking as they make their way inside, "Anyone knowing the instruction could register themselves, unless..."

Markus nods. "It scans my face before opening the door, and only after it's opened I can give orders." Okay, that's reassuring – _he_ could imitate Markus' voice, but not many others can do that, and he's pretty sure Markus' facial plate is the only one of its kind. "Stairs, right hand side."

It would seem that the stabilized thirium levels are finally giving Markus a bit more balance, Connor can feel less of the RK200's weight on him… and yet they make no move to separate, going up the stairs side by side with Markus' arm still loosely draped over Connor's shoulders.

It makes his pump regulator work slightly faster to metabolize all the emotional responses the implications of Markus searching for his touch stir in him.

"Hello? Markus?"

A nurse android model approaches them in the corridor and a quick scan identifies him as Carl Manfred's current caretaker –Thomas is his name.

"Hello, Thomas. My name is Connor." He introduces himself even though he knows there probably isn't an android who doesn't know his name by now. "Markus is in need of recharging and his station was left here. He also wishes to see Carl."

Thomas takes one look at Markus' sluggish form and smiles. "Of course. Carl has been recovering well. I'll go see if he's awake."

If anyone asked him, Connor wouldn't be able to describe how it feels to watch Markus address the man he considers a father with unrestrained affection –only his highest priority functions are online for the time being and it would seem common decency is a secondary one for him.

"Carl. Hi. Hi, Carl. I'm home, Carl." Markus all but tumbles to sit cross-legged in front of the wheelchair and grasp both the man's hands. "Hello, Carl."

Mr Manfred takes his android's son unusually goofy demeanor in remarkable stride, chuckling out his greeting. "Hi, Markus." He says, letting said android son cling to his hands and bring them to his own face. "And you are..."

"My name is—"

"Carl! Dad." Markus interrupts from the floor, "This is Connor. Connor's with me. He's good."

The choice of words makes Carl raise an eyebrow and direct more of his attention to the RK800. "What happened to him?"

Not knowing how in depth he should go about the assassination attempt, Connor keeps it simple: "Cyberlife tried to hurt him. We bested them, but it left Markus at critically low energy levels –which is why he's acting like this right now: in order to save energy, protocols that are deemed non-essential, like social etiquette and filtered speech, are disabled."

"Isn't he cute, dad?"

Case in point. If androids could blush, Connor would be right now. He's pretty sure this is not how Markus planned to tell Carl about the two of them. "Okay, it's time to go charge for you." He crouches down behind the RK200 and hugs by the chest under his arms to lift him.

"He's also _really_ strong. This isn't the first time he lifts me, and let me tell you—"

"I'm going to stop you there because I _know_ you'll regret finishing that phrase in front of your father. Come on, love." Once he has a secure grip on Markus, he turns to Carl again. "I'm so sorry about all of this. If you could show me to his charging station..."

Carl doesn't seem outraged or even embarrassed by the display. He laughs heartily and nods.

"Sure I'll take you to Markus' room. Come."

A room. In a world where most people would barely spare a closet for their androids, Carl Manfred gave Markus a room. There's a desk and chair, with borrowed books and empty notebooks still on it, lamps, a mirror, a full wardrobe... the room even has a small en-suite bathroom for Markus to wash himself and a bed –Connor expected it not to be used, but the charging station had been clearly dragged closest to it so Markus could lie on it while powered down and charging.

An approximation of sleep –shit, had Markus ever _not_ been a deviant? It seems a recurring question for Connor - he probably shouldn't try to answer it.

Carl seems to be aware of Connor's amazement and gives him a knowing smile. "You know, it doesn't really surprise me, what he's become." He says, while watching him maneuver the steadily sleepier-looking Markus onto the bed. "I always thought there was more humanity in him than most actual humans."

The RK800 returns the smile. "He is... one of a kind, for sure."

At this point, there’s no use trying to hide his feelings for Markus from Carl: even after he's plugged in and safely put to bed, Markus doesn't want to be separated from Connor –he grabs at his hand with a surprising strength for his current condition and looks up at him: "Stay. For me?"

How to ever deny those eyes? "Of course. I'll be right here."

"Ok. And run that diagnostic Josh told you to. I'm dizzy and disinhibited, not stupid."

Ever the caregiver. Connor's smile for him softens. "Will do, promise."

"Good." Markus says with finality as his eyes drift shut for low power mode. "Love you."

It makes Connor almost choke up, but he can't _not_ answer: "Love you too."

He braces himself for questions from the parental figure, but surprisingly none come. When he turns to look, Carl is smiling fondly at them. At the _both_ of them.

Markus' penchant for empathy must have been influenced by Carl, because the man seems to sense his confusion and shakes his head. "I'm sure there's one hell of a story behind all of this, but that can wait until you two have gotten some respite." He assures, pushing himself slightly backwards in his chair until he's almost out of the room. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'll ask Thomas to make me some food and take care of all my annoying human needs while you two rest up. We'll have our chat when Markus wakes up."

Powerless to do anything but nod, Connor bids the man goodbye for the moment. "Thank you, Carl."

He's actually thanking the man for way more than just letting him use the room. He's thanking Carl for being the amazing, insightful empath he is, for spurring Markus to think for himself and explore his own potential... for bringing Markus to him, essentially.

That wouldn't technically be the correct choice of words, but if Carl hadn't been Markus' owner there's a good chance the RK200 wouldn't have deviated, at least not in the same way; and who knows what would have happened, had the revolution not started when it did.

Connor doesn't like 'what ifs'. He especially loathes this one.

Probably because he would have just been decommissioned and disassembled, to be replaced by the RK900 line once it was completed.

The staggering truth is, none of them would have survived, had Markus not arrived when he did –and the stubborn bastard still refuses taking credit for that.

Unconsciously, Connor's grip tightens slightly around the other's hand and he opens the interfacing ping.

Even in the less aware low-power mode, Markus accepts and lets him in.

Connor wishes he had the balls to let himself be so open and vulnerable. Then again... he seems to be the only one around whom Markus allows himself this luxury -the thought makes the thirium flowing in his veins feel illogically warmer.

He's tempted to just stay there and listen for the soft, imperceptible hum of the RK200's pump regulator as he undergoes self-repair and charge, but a promise is a promise...

 _»_ _System diagnostic..._

 _»_ _Minor damage detected. Initiate self-repair? Y/N_

 _»_ _Core systems: 81%_

 _»_ _Software instability detected. Initiate subroutine clean-up? Y/N_

 _»_ _Optical unit: 100%_

 _»_ _Sound unit: 100%_

 _»_ _Motor functions: 93%. Calibration advisable._

 _»_ _Energy levels: 94.4%_

 _»_ _Thirium levels: 78.6%_

 Connor accepts the queries and runs the script that will de-clutter the portions of his software affected by the electrical discharge while his primary systems also start up the auto-repairing of what little parts of his biocomponents were damaged. He deflates slightly in the position he's in, sitting on the floor by Markus' bed, and lets the RK200's feelings for him filter through to him.

Affection, respect, worry... cycling back to admiration... the sound of his own voice as he cooed Markus back to consciousness, while they redressed in the alcove.

 _«Stay.»_ oh, and that too. _«Relax. We're safe, here.»_

Really, Markus knows him all too well by now- they’ve been working side by side for barely a month, they admitted to their feelings less than two hours ago, and yet it feels like they’ve been together since… ever. Since Connor first tore down that red wall for him.

He relaxes with his back against the side of the bed and eventually goes idle long enough that another query pops up:

_» Prolonged inactivity. Enter low power mode? Y/N_

He lets his eyes drift shut as he accepts.

 

Carl finds them ‘asleep’ hand in hand and Connor only stirs because his sound unit still picks up the sound of the man’s chuckle upon seeing them.

“Hey, Carl.” Markus finally sounds more like his usual self. “Sorry about earlier.” He adds, with a smile that is only slightly sheepish –he’s not really all that sorry.

“Don’t worry about it.” Carl assures, “How many times have you heard me ramble like an idiot, drunk or sleep-deprived?”

“Fair enough.” Markus’ charge is at 75%, but since he’s here he might as well go the rest of the way; so he keeps the wire hooked between his shoulder-blades, even as he sits up and smiles tenderly for his father.

“So…” Carl’s expectant gaze between him and Connor does make the RK200 slightly shy, now that his sense of decency is up and running again.

“…so?”

“I may be old but I’m not an idiot, Markus.” The man says, with a spark of mischief in his smile that makes him look much younger, “Why don’t you keep telling me about this one? You were on the verge of gushing, earlier.”

Connor notes, not without a hint of petty amusement, that the only reason Markus doesn’t bolt out is because he’s still hooked to the charge. He keeps silent.

“Yes, Markus, do tell.” Well, almost silent. He carried his lover’s touchy-feely ass all the way here, he gets to poke a little fun.

As usual, though, Markus manages to surprise him:

“Well. It all started when he pointed a gun at me.” He recounts, with a level of fondness in his voice that clashes wildly with the start of the tale.

“Oh, very dramatic.” Carl leans back a little further in his chair to properly listen. “I like it.”

Markus speaks with a rapture that makes Connor almost feel bad for trying to embarrass him: “…but then I watched him tear down the walls that were making him hunt us; and we ended up fighting side by side against those who would see us dismantled.” And despite himself the RK800 is captivated –he never heard their story from Markus’ point of view and… well, he didn’t think the RK200 was _that_ aware of him from the start, he… didn’t think he mattered that much. “He was thrown into the revolution from the other side of the barricade… and still he offered to go and be the one to shift the balance of power… you should have seen him, Carl.”

Markus’ eyes are shining now; and Carl looks pensively between the two of them, before his face lights up in recognition. “You know… I think I did see you.” He recalls worriedly watching Channel 16’s live broadcast, with Thomas by his side, and wondering whether Markus’ song would fall on deaf ears or not, when the military suddenly withdrew and a sea of androids came to his son’s rescue. Guided by one person. “You’re the one they made all that fuss about…” he adds with a smirk.

 _That_ , funnily enough, has Connor slightly bashful. “I just… did what was right.” He says, eyes downcast, “It’s the least I could do, after…”

“Connor… we’ve talked about this.” They technically haven’t, but they’ve sent each other feelings and sensations over the past two hours and… it’s difficult to hide things from Markus. The RK200 leans into Connor’s side, resting his forehead against the other’s temple and closing his eyes. _«You can’t keep feeling guilty about being locked up in a prison you couldn’t even see.»_

Connor’s LED spins yellow in the silence, before Carl speaks:

“Hold that pose.”

“What—”

The man wheels himself over to the desk, grabbing a stack of papers and a carbon pencil, before returning to where he was in front of the two.

“Shhh…” Markus gives a very light peck to Connor’s cheekbone while his hands go to the RK800’s wrists to gently hold him in place. “Let him draw.”

Carl jots down a quick sketch, smiling at the paper the whole time. “The next time someone talks shit about androids not being alive… I can show them this, and shove into their faces the purest form of feeling I’ve ever seen.”

It’s a rough portrait, done in a few minutes with messy edges and marked shadows, but the feeling is very much there. Markus bites his lower lip when Carl turns the paper to show him –if only everyone could see them how his father does.

Once Markus is fully charged, they get out of the room and continue their conversation in the studio, where Carl put the drawing to one side. “With your permission, boys… I’d like to turn this one into a painting.”

Wouldn’t _that_ be something. Knowing his father’s style, Markus is aware they’d barely even be recognizable as themselves, but he still looks to Connor for approval.

The RK800 seems floored. “No one has ever painted me before.”

“A miscarriage of justice, if you ask me.” That does get a chuckle out of him.

Carl also laughs, but doesn’t disagree with Markus.

Eventually, Connor nods. “Okay.” He turns to the other, only now realizing that Markus has been holding his hand the whole time –his touch sensors obviously registered it, but it wasn’t something he did anything about until now, as he feels the hand in his push to lace their fingers together. “We… probably should go.”

“Yeah, the others will be wondering whether I’m still acting like an idiot or not.”

“Hey, now. For what it’s worth, you were a cute idiot.” Connor bumps their shoulders together, and he’s finally smiling again when he moves his attention back to Carl. “It was an honor to finally meet you.”

Carl extends a hand to grasp at the corner of the RK800’s sleeve. “I can say the same.” He looks between the two of them, then exclusively to Connor, “And take care of this one for me, will you, Connor? He cares for everyone except himself.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Hey! I’m standing right here, you know?”

Connor’s processing unit registers these interaction and the emotional responses they give him. His social integration protocol notifies him that he has no other interactions of the same kind, and opens a new log:

_» Category: Emotional interactions. Log directory name: interactions_family_

They say their goodbyes to Carl, but Connor still feels his thirium pump regulator beat faster at the thought for the whole way back.

 

“Ah, there you are!” Simon is the first one to welcome them back. “And actually looking like yourself, no less!”

Markus ducks his head sheepishly, but the laughter and the light in his eyes tell Connor he isn’t regretting his words in the slightest. “Sorry, you guys probably didn’t need to see or hear any of that.”

The PL600 just shakes his head. “To be honest, it would have been quite obvious regardless.” Yes, in hindsight and with an external perspective, it would have. Markus tries really hard not to hear the implied ‘took you long enough you morons’. “Either way, come along. You guys have a visit.”

“What the hell is up, Connor, you nearly got yourself killed again?”

He would know that voice even if someone ripped out both his optical units. “Hank!!!” he honestly didn’t expect the FBI to comply so fast –it possibly doesn’t bode well for the rest of his demands if they’re trying to _appease_ them by meeting this one straight away, but… right now he doesn’t care. He has his partner back, he doesn’t have to pretend they’re not friends anymore. He smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have never gotten myself in any sort of danger at all.”

“And saying that with a straight face. I’m impressed.”

There’s a joke to be made there about straight things and whatnot, but Connor holds his tongue. “So the DPD has agreed to make you our handler?”

“Looks that way.”

"We took the liberty of filling Lieutenant Anderson in while you guys where away." North explains from her position –in any other setting, sitting on an altar with a foot propped up on it would be blasphemy, but, well. This place hasn't been a church for a long time. "He also had some interesting stories. Do you really have to lick things to analyse them?"

"This is where the situation goes from _'I'm glad you guys are on good terms'_ to _'mistakes were made'_ , isn't it?"

North's laughter is more than enough to answer Connor's question.

They still have an introduction of sorts, now that the RK800 is present. Josh is absolutely delighted to meet a human who openly supports android rights, North is amused by his stories and Simon simply wants everyone to get along –Nines was still slightly wary of the Lieutenant, but Hank came to them unarmed and the PL600 stood by his side the whole time. He cannot quite explain it, Nines finds Simon's presence to be calming. To his knowledge, the PL600 isn't a fighter, has never been equipped to be, wouldn't stand a chance in a melee or firearm confrontation –the fact that, despite that daunting reality, Simon still chose to hold his head high and fight for his rights is incredible, in the RK900's eyes.

His database pulls up the iconic image of one single man with grocery bags walking up in front of a tank. Had Markus and Connor not managed to wake him up when they did, _he_ would have been that tank.

Nines feels his jaw tighten and closes his eyes.

"Hey." A gentle hand softly grasping his forearm brings him back. "Where did you go just now?"

He takes one look at earnest blue eyes and shakes his head. "Nowhere good. I'd much rather be here."

From the corner of his eye, Nines can see Connor whisper something to a smirking Markus, but their so-called fearless leader shakes his head and doesn't attract attention to them.

"I'll be honest with you Connor, I don't think Cyberlife will claim any liability over the attack." Hank continues from where they left off, "But at least now that I can officially come and go from here and you're not wanted anymore we can bounce ideas off each other more easily."

"Honestly, all I care about is that they stop trying to get in the way of our talks with the government." The RK800 says, not really noticing his stare harden and his fists clench. "They won't do that? _Fine_. Then I'll feed them to the media. It'll be a piece of cake to let them _drown_ in the shit-storm and tip Elijah Kamski off about the perfect chance for a corporate takeover."

The Lieutenant has seen Connor's more ruthless side more than once –it still throws him for a loop. "Well... damn."

At his side, Markus seems equally impressed. Maybe a little too impressed, Hank notices when the RK200 bites at his lips and briefly ducks his head behind Connor's shoulder –he whispers something that Hank can't make out, but if Connor's face and North's raised brows are any indication, he _doesn't_ want to know.

He clears his voice. "On a better note, we've tracked down one group of red ice dealers who's been hiding out in what remains of Capitol Park." He says, blatantly changing topics, "We're gonna run the bust in two days' time."

"You'll get to have all the fun without me." Teasing is a good way to mask worry; and Connor shakes himself out of it pretty quickly anyway: Hank has been in the force for a longer time than he's been alive, he knows the risks and how to deal with them.

" _Christ_ , I'm happy you're not a cop anymore!" The Lieutenant comments instead, rubbing at his forehead, "Fuck knows the crazy stunts you would have pulled!"

"Crazy stunts? Him? I _never_ would've guessed." Your smile isn't subtle in the least, Markus. Hank sends a look in their leader direction and Connor knows: his partner figured them out. Undeterred by Anderson's worryingly unsurprised stare, the RK200 carries on: "It's not like he infiltrated a tower full of armed hostiles alone to free captive androids and _pulled it off_..."

"Woah, ok, you can dial down the bedroom eyes!" aaand there it goes. Leave it to Hank to have the tact of a punch to the thirium pump. Connor fishes a quarter out of his pocket and starts rolling it between his fingers to avoid pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment, while the guys actually, genuinely laugh at them and Markus just shrug with a look that just seems to ask ‘can you blame me?’

Funnily enough, though, _that_ seems to be the missing piece that makes Nines relax about Hank's presence here:

"Right? They are so gross." He complains, despite the fact that he's been exposed to a total of one stupid joke and nothing more, "If I could vomit, I probably would."

It feels too surreal to Connor, in the political and social climate they're in, to have people joke about his love life, of all things... but he guesses that building blocks can only be laid down little by little and there's only so much one can stress about the 'bigger picture' without going nuts.

They have just survived an assassination attempt and have made plans for a possible course of action, spending every waking moment worrying about what's to come won't do them any good.

Markus ends up trying to give Hank a tour of the church –which in an abandoned, half-demolished mess just barely rearranged into a meeting place admittedly doesn't last long... they end up back at the altar where they started, but shouts coming from the entrance make them all jump:

"Help! Please help!!!" The voice is instantly familiar to Markus and Connor, who share a shocked look and bolt to the doors, "I don't— they're gonna die, I think they need blue blood! Please— _help_!!!"

The petite, young human finally collapses under the weight of the android she's been half-carrying from God knows where, and Markus is kneeling to her side in three strides while Connor catches the wounded, barely conscious android before they hit the stone floor.

"Fernanda! It's okay." Markus calls her name to get her to focus on him and stay lucid, "You're okay, we're going to take care of your friend. _Breathe_. Focus on me."

The young woman is scared and her chest expands and compresses at irregular rates -doing next to nothing in terms of actual oxygen intake. She's hyperventilating. "Follow my voice, Fernanda. You're ok."

"I— I tried to help—"

Markus briefly glances at Connor who nods at him. _«_ _They're in bad shape and low on thirium, but stable._ _»_

With that knowledge, he concentrates on the human before him. "And you did. You brought them here." He assures, "They'll be fine. Follow my voice. You're in a safe place." He takes her hand and places over his thirium pump regulator, slowing its beat to synch it up to a human's heartrate and simulating deep breaths. "Focus on my breath and try to breathe with me. In, 1, 2, 3... out, 1, 2, 3..." She tries. Her breath trembles and is still shallow, but at least she stopped shaking. "Very good. Can you try one more time for me? You are safe. I'm here. Connor is here. Follow my heartbeat. In, 1, 2, 3... out, 1, 2, 3..."

Slowly but surely, Fernanda calms down. Markus smiles and lets her hug him when she finally regains focus and recognizes him, sharing a look with Connor over her shoulder.

"I was scared..."

"I know, darling, I know..." he coos, caressing her hair while still smiling at the RK800, "But you did good. We'll get your friend all better."

She leans back to glance at her friend, slumped over Connor’s lap with their LED indicator still in the red and a gash in the left side of their back. “Promise?”

“I promise. We’ll take a look right now.” Markus assures, and nods to Connor.

“Can you hear me?” the RK800 asks, gently turning the injured android so that they’re leaning their back on Connor’s legs, “My name is Connor. You have been wounded.”

“I… can hear you…” the android’s voice is slightly shaky with static, but their optical unit’s shutters are focused and they show recognition, “My friend, she—”

“I’m here!” Immediately Fernanda scrambles to take her friend’s hand, “I’m here, _fofo_.”

“Fernanda is fine, but very worried about you.” Connor tries to reassure, “I will now run a scan of your condition. Is that okay?”

The android nods, closing their eyes for the diagnostic.

_»_ _Biocomponent #AF1620H damaged. Thirium distribution impaired. Temporary biocomponent deactivation suggested for repairs. Proceed?_

Connor holds off on the request. “What is your name?”

“Zaccheu.” That’s peculiar –the scan gave ‘Zack’ as the designated name from the customer that originally… owned them. The RK800 guesses they decided to change it after. Connor takes the liberty to update his database.

“One of your biocomponents has been damaged.” He explains, “It’s not vital, but it’s corrupting the subroutines for thirium distribution. I need to deactivate it so we can bring you safely in for repairs and get your thirium levels back up. Will you be ok with it?”

By now, even the androids that do not live in any of the warehouses have caught wind of Jericho’s consent protocols, so Zaccheu clears the static out of his voicebox: “My name is Zaccheu, I’m an AC900 android, and I give my consent for this procedure.”

Connor nods at him, then extends his left hand to Markus for interfacing while gently placing the right one on Zaccheu’s chest. “Deactivating the biocomponent will shut down the movement of your left arm up to the shoulder, but it will be easier to move the rest of your body without interference and we’ll get you back up to 100% as soon as your body can take it.” He explains, proceeding with the deactivation as gently as an automated script can be carried out.

Zaccheu’s shoulders have a twitch, and the left one slumps slightly, but they heave a sigh once the buzzing all over their body stops.

All the tension leaves Markus’ body when he sees that, and Connor can feel it through their still linked hands. They help their guests stand up, and go re-join the others.

“I’ll be damned.” Hank comments, having seen the entire rescue process for the first time. “This happen often?”

“Not as often anymore, thanks to your colleagues…” Markus says, sincere and grateful as he ushers Fernanda along. “Don’t be afraid. Lieutenant Anderson is also a friend.”

Hank takes in the mindful way the RK200 handles himself around the distressed girl –he let his arm hover around her shoulder and let _her_ chose to lean into it for comfort, while in the meantime he also looks out for Connor as he’s now half-carrying the injured android.

Right, Markus was originally meant to be a patient caretaker. Hank bites back a smile –coincidentally, some of that nurturing attitude seems to have stuck even after breaking down the walls.

Connor has tried to tell him about them during one of their meetups –the dreaded 'red walls' and the moment they fell down; the android tried describing with words the inexplicable feeling of immaterial mass and the act of tearing it down... it's part of why he's not surprised in the least by the seemingly new development in Connor's relationship with Markus: the RK800 spoke of their confrontation in such an… _entranced_ way, for lack of a better word, that Hank couldn't possibly think there wasn't at least an underlying, lurking... something.

Judging by the shared looks and their seamless synch just now, the Lieutenant would bet good money that _'something'_ is very much growing and here to stay.

The grizzled, hard-boiled part of him that used to try so hard not to care doesn't want to know; and yet... a smaller, tentative part of him that tells him his heart is thawing a bit after all actually finds them cute and hopes they can have happiness in each other.

Shaking himself out of the passing thought, he focuses on the young lady and her injured friend.

“You look like you’ve been through a lot, kiddo. Is it okay to ask you what happened?”

Zaccheu beats her to the punch, much more lucid now that their damaged biocomponent is quarantined: “We were just walking down the road to meet with friends when three humans surrounded us. They called me names and tried to pry my chassis open to siphon out thirium.” Yikes. Hank will _definitely_ be more than happy to bust that red-ice trafficking ring, “I tried telling Fernanda to run away, but she wouldn’t. She threw rocks at my assailants, and then one of the rocks she threw set off the alarms of a car that was parked nearby. Fearing the arrival of the authorities, the assailants fled.”

"I was so scared fofo would die!" Fernanda says, still shaken but much more lucid, "They lost so much blood, I didn't know what to do! I just remembered the TV people talking about this place, and I just..."

"You did the right thing, Fernanda." Connor says, "Now we have to bring Zaccheu to one of the warehouses to get all fixed up. Do you wanna come with?"

"Can I?"

"I'll take them." North speaks up suddenly and with a tone that isn't looking for approval. Among them, she is the most wary about humans, but Markus genuinely struggles to believe she _really_ sees a threat in a lost, scared little girl –but then it clicks: back when they were barely scraping by and thinking they'd all shut down in an abandoned boat, North also _was_ a lost, scared little girl. Or, at the very least, _she felt like one_. She's not being antagonizing, she's being protective.

Markus nods at her. "Do you want to meet my friends, Fernanda?"

She peeks shyly along the group's faces until she finds fierce hazel eyes. "Hey. I'm North, I can show you around. If anyone gives you grief, come straight to me, I'm the baddest bitch in here."

She falls into step with Connor just as he smirks at her. "Would you care to test that?" He jokingly asks, even as he still helps Zaccheu along.

"Anywhere, anytime, _big boy_." She winks as she throws Connor's past grandstanding to Nines back in the RK800's face.

"How many times do I have to ask you guys _not_ to antagonize each other?"

Nines tries to reassuringly pat Markus on the back, since he only gets a chuckle from Connor and a very eloquent middle finger from North: "They'll be fine. It's their way to play."

"A child will see fireworks and want to _play_." Josh objects, "That doesn't mean you should let them."

Markus laughs with a shake of his head. "To be fair, neither of them is a child." He comments, "...but I should stop by soon to make sure everything's alright, just in case."

They all burst out laughing at that.

"Welp, it sounds like a good time for me to go and get back to work." Anderson eventually says, "I'll keep in touch."

"I'll try and see if Zaccheu can pass the facial scans of his assailants to Connor."

Clever move, Markus –if Connor receives the scans they can identify them; and if they have a trafficking record they can be taken into custody right after the red ice bust. Hank nods.

"Gotcha. You people be safe, you hear me?"

"Got it."

" _Don't_." The Lieutenant almost visibly cringes, "That's exactly what Connor would say every time he went and did _the opposite_ of what I said."

Markus' amused chuckle is possibly one of the most human things Hank has heard in a while.

Who would've guessed, not even two months ago, that he'd be in cahoots with the android 'guerrilla'?

Fate really likes to punch you in the nuts, sometimes.

Oh, well. He's known long enough what the right thing to do was, and _goddamn it all_ he has the balls to own up to it. After seeing the way Connor and Markus helped that girl, with no hesitation and no care for whether the people in need were android or human, Hank is more convinced than ever.

Heh. They've all surely come a long way.


	10. Mastermind games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think a visit to Elijah Kamski is in order."
> 
> "Just like old times, huh?"
> 
>  
> 
> ...not exactly like old times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DO I NEED TO MENTION THAT EVERY CHAPTER OF THIS IS KICKING MY ASS? BECAUSE THEY ARE.
> 
> It's exhausting, but oh, so, so satisfying.  
> I'm genuinely loving writing every second of this.  
> I might be a bit of a masochist.
> 
> Nyooming to bed now, it's goddamn 0100 am and I have a oneshot to write tomorrow! ;)
> 
> Pls love me <3

 

The free android community is not really made to house a human –they don’t have regular food at the ready, and most sleeping quarters are Spartan to say the least— but still, Fernanda feels safer here than she has felt in a long time.

She never had an android of her own, and she couldn’t understand how or why people would be so mean to someone just trying to help –someone _created_ with the very purpose of helping. The day she met Zaccheu, not long after the night Markus changed everything for everyone, they were stumbling out of the collapsed house they were hiding in; just another casualty of the military playing it fast and loose with grenades.

She asked them if they were ok, they started walking together and, when Fernanda asked for their name, mentioned they didn’t have one –they didn’t like their old one anymore.

“Well, we’re gonna find you a new one.” Candidly, the human had asked: “Are you a boy or a girl?”

The only answer she got was: “I’m alive.”

She could more than respect that.

In the following weeks, she and the few of her friends who happened to stay behind watched Detroit slowly trying to get back to normal and androids trying to _actually_ make a change through Markus. Cyberlife had said all sorts of things about deviants and how _dangerous_ they supposedly were… then she actually met face to face with the deviant leader and they _danced_.

They just fucking danced to the kizomba as if it was a beach party.

It was so easy to see into the heart of someone who just wants to be free. She even saw Connor’s face –she didn’t know his name at the time, but she’s seen _that_ look plenty of times, in movies, if not real life. Seeing the two of them at the church… she was definitely right to twirl Connor right into Markus’ arms.

North was very amused by her side of the tale –she's been one of the people Fernanda has been seeing the most in the last two days: at first, she thought it was because the WR400 doesn't trust humans nearly as far as she could throw them, but after a few more conversations exchanged while waiting for Zaccheu to finish their check-ups or walking along the warehouse towards the exit as she popped out for a bite, Fernanda has come to understand...

It's just that girls have to look out for each other, android or human they be.

Humans would have a thing or two to learn from Jericho.

The freighter has long been sunk to the bottom of the river, but she's heard the name whispered here and there enough to piece it together.

When she asks North for confirmation, she shrugs her shoulders.

"Nah... this place is not really Jericho." She mutters, heaving a big sigh and throwing a glance towards where Markus is overseeing Nines' first-aid training. "Jericho was barely even a refuge... this is... so much more than any of us ever thought Jericho would be."

Not to mention that, out of the original 19 people of the 'Jericho crew', only herself, Simon, Josh and Markus have survived.

"No, Nines you're not supposed to send out so much energy upon contact— shit!" Connor, who was coaching his brother on accessing a wounded android without traumatizing them by pretending to be said wounded party, has a sudden jolt and sits up with a yell, making the people around them chuckle and distracting North from the grim memories.

The RK900 seems just as frustrated. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! My parameters just won't let me go any lower than that!"

Markus frowns at that. "That's strange." He mentions, "Energy level regulation should be even easier for you than it is for him, how do you have so little control?"

True and embarrassing: as the more advanced prototype, Nines should be more skilled in every little thing; and yet, especially when careful balance is involved, Connor possesses a mastery that remains unmatched –Markus keeps saying it's because of the coin calibration, Nines keeps refusing to believe it. Truth might be that, because he was never fully completed and barely had a couple test-runs, Nines' programming is a lot rawer and rougher around the edges that the technological wonders he is capable of could lead to believe. Which makes it harder for him to keep proper control of his own strength.

In the few seconds it took him to reach this conclusion, Connor has scanned him and run a quick diagnostic.

"You know, I think the question is actually _how are your energy levels at 112%_?"

"I don't _know_!" Nines admits in a huff, "It's been accumulating the past couple of weeks and I don't understand why my systems won't let it disperse!"

There's a moment of pensive silence, then Connor snaps his fingers in realization: "It's your core directive!" He exclaims, standing up and bringing his brother with him, "You were designed to hunt and kill, and as such your systems keep storing energy to gear you up for a fight... and it accumulates every day that you don't."

Scanning himself, Nines has a ping of confirmation: 37% of his current total charge is being saved for idle combat protocols. "...what do I do with it?"

Connor chances a look at Markus. It's not exactly an orthodox procedure... but it will be worth it showing off a little for him. "Until we can find a proper way to reroute the program... I say we let it out. I _did_ promise you a rematch, didn't I?"

"Connor—"

"Wait, are you two seriously gonna duke it out?" North exclaims from the corner where she and Fernanda and Zaccheu were talking, taking the human by hand and guiding her over, "I wanna watch!"

Markus still looks worried, but Josh of all people puts a hand on his shoulder to convince him to cave: "Look at it this way, Mark: it's better to have a sparring match in a controlled environment where we can be sure to keep it non-lethal, rather than wait anymore and risk Nines overloading himself and frying something."

Sometimes it's irritating, how easily it comes to Josh to be the voice of reason –it probably comes from his past as a teacher.

Faced with undeniable logic, Markus nods. "Do what you have to do." He sighs. "But _be careful_ , both of you."

Connor is unsure whether he should be flattered or offended at how the RK200's gaze lingers on him at the warning, but he just smiles at his lover and turns his attention back to Nines as he takes off his leather jacket: "No ripping of components, no piercing through the chassis, no breaking of joints." Already several eyebrows raise at how _that's_ the standard for Connor's idea of a friendly sparring match, "First one to hover a hand over the other's pump regulator wins."

"Deal."

They take a few steps back, sizing each other up, but it's a matter of seconds before Connor rushes forward and they start trading blows.

With the two of them nearly equally matched in speed and efficiency, it gets pretty intense pretty fast.

"You're staring."

Markus doesn't take his eyes off Connor for a second, not even to acknowledge Simon coming up by his side –even though he does answer: "And _you're_ a hypocrite, if you thought that would shame me." He teases, knowing full well that Simon is also enjoying the show. None of them ever said anything, but for a while now there's always been a certain someone helping Nines adapt to new and unfamiliar emotions, and for just as long Simon has basically become untouchable –if anyone even says a word out of place to him, they'll be on the receiving end of... well, _that_. "Good _God_ , look at them."

They haven't had the chance to talk much about fighting techniques, but Connor has told him once— he fights too 'fair', apparently he telegraphs too much and always fights with the same kind of moves that would work on a human opponent.

Connor was specifically instructed to capture and disable androids, and so was Nines: they fight hard and fast, not one movement wasted, every single blow or grapple aimed to take down their opponent in the fastest and most efficient way. And, ever since turning deviant, Connor also fights dirty; and it becomes apparent when they get to very close quarters.

Nines is faster than Connor, so he can easily anticipate and block the punch that the RK800 tries to aim at his chest, but Connor also knows that; and instead of trying to pull back and retaliate he lets momentum carry him through and well into his brother's stance.

"Gotcha!" The RK900 grabs Connor by the arm and is about to splay a hand on his chest, but being close enough to be grasped like that also means being already inside your opponent's defences; and Nines practically did Connor's work for him by leaving himself open in his certainty of having won.

"Are you so sure about that?" He says, pushing himself further against Nines and sliding a foot between his legs –the RK900 is instantly uncomfortable with the proximity and Connor takes full advantage of it: letting all of his weight fall onto Nines, he ignores the hand brushing very close to the 'killing' spot and simply brings his brother down to the floor with him, using his foot to pull and lift his leg while pushing with his forearm in a lever with a very predictable outcome.

They both crumple to the floor, but Connor is on top, with his forearm firmly pushing against Nines' clavicle and his hand looming carefully over his pump regulator in hypothetical danger.

Markus watches on, equal parts amused and aroused.

"In a real fight you would have been severely damaged." The RK900 protests his brother's tactics, looking up at him in a mix of annoyance and awe.

"In a real fight..." Connor just slightly flicks his head to the side to try and get a few stray curls out of his eyes, "...you wouldn't be alive to make that complaint."

Markus has to bite at his lower lip at that –that's exactly what he meant about fighting dirty. He can't be sure whether he was already programmed like this or if breaking down the walls made him even more ruthless, but while Nines was thinking of their little duel as a 'by the book' type of takedown, to be carried out with minimal damage to himself, Connor treated it -or rather the concept of it- like an all-out, kill-or-be-killed survival match. He went for the kill even if in a real scenario it would have cost him getting his left shoulder dislocated if not the entire arm outright ripped off.

Nowhere in the rules had they stated that the victor would have to be unscathed, and Nines simply assumed he'd need to be.

"You say that, but... even if you won, wouldn't you just be bleeding out your thirium?"

Connor's mischievous smile turns suddenly gentle: "That's working on the assumption that no one would come for me."

_Well, shit._

That makes Markus' breath hitch even more than the RK800's obvious battle prowess: his original programming had the ruthlessness, and breaking it brought him _hope_. The factoring of _someone_ to help him as an extra variable in his calculations. Connor locked eyes with him at those words and Markus closes his own for a second.

Connor considers _him_ a symbol of hope, when the RK200 himself saw the very same thing in him on the night of the march, when he thought he had none left.

Markus' mind suddenly spirals into thoughts of what could have happened but didn't. He thinks of a lonely, paranoid subway ride during which his newly stolen sound unit barely even registered the news coming from the carriage's screen about a 'prototype detective android' and immediately several ancillary thoughts started chucking queries and calculations at him – _'can I take him down?', 'would he keep it non-lethal?', 'will I be able to kill him if I have to?', 'is his will to catch me stronger than my will to live?'_

If the question _'would I be able to make him change his mind?'_ hadn't also come up in Markus' mind, their first meeting would have been very different.

If the path he had chosen to carve hadn't been one of dialogue and non-violence, _he_ might have been the snarling beast pointing a gun instead of the peaceful soul holding out a hand. And he knows that Connor is well aware of it.

It's so goddamn surreal to think about.

Sometimes, when he powers down a little to give his thrumming core a rest, images of dark 'what ifs' still plague his memories, in the form of broken and discarded preconstructions resurfacing to be defragmented before they can finally be deleted –the closest approximation to nightmares that an android can experience.

"Markus?"

Shit, he got absorbed in his own thoughts. The two prototypes got off the floor and re-joined the group, only to be immediately showered with amazement by both Fernanda and Zaccheu, who's just as impressed as their human friend to witness a level of skill that high. They're trying to ask Connor all sorts of questions while Simon has discreetly stepped by Nines' side to praise him on an exercise well done; and Markus' own lack of an input hasn't gone unnoticed: by all intents and purposes he should be gushing about how good Connor is at _everything_ , or at least making some kind of humorous smack-talk about it, and his lover just called his name.

He forces a smile, even though he knows his lover can tell it's fake. "Well done, guys." At least he doesn't sound too choked up, "I'll, uh... go, for now. We can resume first aid training later."

Connor instantly catches onto what's wrong –that's what runs so deep between them and that no one else could never hope to even guess: both of them are constantly aware of how much worse the bad they already experienced could have been; and the smallest of things makes its cold talon poke out to scratch at their core every so often. "Markus—"

He'll feel bad about leaving Zaccheu hanging mid-question later. For now, he rushes in the direction Markus just disappeared in faster than any of them can blink.

Nines looks worriedly at Simon by his side, but the PL600 just sighs and brushes a comforting hand behind his shoulder blades. "It's nothing you said or did." He assures, "They seem to have some very specific personal demons." It's not really that relieving a thought, but Simon smiles through it regardless: "At least, now they also have each other. They'll be alright."

"Must have been lonely..." even sounding so troubled, it's a blessing for Fernanda to hear Zaccheu's voice not distorted by static anymore, "Not having anyone to confide into..."

Not anyone who'd _actually_ understand, at any rate. It makes them all sort if wish they tried harder to appreciate Markus as an individual sooner, but at least those days are behind them now.

What they have here and now is good, for _both_ Markus and Connor.

Not enjoying the silence, and perhaps having a deeper insight than she lets on, Fernanda bumps shoulders with her friend, before turning to Nines. "Hey, big guy!" She calls, "The outside world is pretty dangerous. How about you teach me and _fofo_ some moves, too?"

Even though he's not that much bigger than the others, Nines can tell he's the one being addressed and feels... insecure.

"I don't know if that's a good idea..." the last thing he wants is to accidentally cause any more hurt. By his side he, can see Simon retract his polymer skin to run a quick diagnostic, and his breath sort of hitches despite not needing any.

"Your excess energy has dissipated. You'll do fine." He points out, stepping back with the barest hint of a smile. "I'll be here the whole time."

"Ugh." North makes a show of being exasperated, "You talk shit about Markus, but you're just as much of a sap."

"Hey!"

Simon looks at Josh as someone to stand up for him, but the other just nods solemnly, arms crossed and fighting down a chuckle.

Fernanda's laughter almost startles North –the girl is so _tiny_ , even compared to her, you could almost forget she's at all here. "Come on! I think it's cute." Almost. The way she smiles has a way to demand attention.

North feels a grin tug at her own lips. Those two dorks will be alright –they can sit back and just let themselves be, for now.

 

"Markus... talk to me." Connor reaches him before he can even leave the hiding spot he still refuses to call his room.

He minutely shakes his head, but does hold out an arm, inviting the RK800 to close the distance between them. "It's just... stupid, really."

"Nothing that makes you leave a room like that is stupid." Connor is already hugging his shoulders from behind as he counters Markus' words. "Where did your mind go?"

There's a moment of silence between them before the RK200 relents, bringing one hand up to close it around Connor's. "To all the awful places it could have." He admits, and Connor doesn't need to ask. "Sometimes I'd see a cascade of data and it'd get difficult to distinguish what actually happened from projections."

The polymer skin retracts from Markus' hand. _«Sometimes my core freezes up with the fear that 'we' didn't actually happen. With thoughts of where would I be if the wall between us hadn't come crashing down.»_

As worrying as the confession is, it makes the RK800 smile that there even was one to begin with –that Markus trusted him with opening up about his vulnerability, without him having to prod. Like he knows he doesn't _have_ to be positive and reassuring all the time, not in front of him.

 _«Sometimes it happens to me, too.»_ Connor confesses himself, tightening his hold on the other and sending out the interfacing prompt. Emotions flowing freely between them, Markus' frame has a slight stutter taking it all in -he feels the other's own fear at memories of a malicious AI encoded into him, the worry over losing himself again or the troubling hypothetical of what would have happened if he lost himself that night at the Plaza. The sheer amount of understanding pouring from Connor is enough to make Markus feel less alone with his own demons. Then Connor starts mouthing a line behind his neck and several of his processes get violently side-tracked.

_«Connor?»_

_«You're thinking too much.»_ is all that comes from the other as his hands slip inside the collar of Markus' shirt -Markus is not stopping him. _«Let me try and see if I can remind you of how very real this is.»_

It's a matter of minutes until Markus is undressed and pushed up against a wall with Connor on his knees before him, worshipping him with his mouth but without words and in a way that makes Markus feel like his lover is the real godlike entity here; and all his core can process boils down to thoughts of _"Connor"_ , _"yes"_ , and _"oh, God, please"._

 

They are barely done composing themselves when Nines calls out to his brother: _«If it’s a bad time, don’t tell me.»_

Connor smirks at the implicit distaste. _«You’re in the clear… this time.»_

_«Anderson is back from the bust.»_

The change in Connor’s expression is enough for Markus to know, even without being included in the call:

 “Hank?” the RK800 nods wordlessly, and Markus haphazardly shrugs his vest back on. “Let’s go.”

Connor’s gaze lingers on the way his lover doesn’t bother completely dressing himself and his mind supplies the conclusion that Markus is fine with everyone knowing _exactly_ what they’ve been up to.

He possibly _wants_ people to know, without any possible doubt, precisely how close they are.

The emotional response that sparks from that particular piece of data sends all sorts of things warm and tingly through his core; and he can't help but smile the whole way back.

It freezes on his face a bit when he sees Hank with his left arm in a sling, but the Lieutenant is already in the midst of shrugging Fernanda's worry off.

"It's nothing, kid." He says with a wave of his good hand, "Just a few bruises creaking more than they should because I'm _fuckin' old_. It takes more than that to down me."

"I should know." Connor interjects, grinning slightly, "I plucked you off a rooftop." The teasing tone only redoubles as he bumps shoulders with Markus, "The two of you would get along." Shit self-preservation and a penchant for falling off high places. A match made in heaven.

It suddenly dawns on him that it might have been a tactical mistake to bring Hank's attention to Markus and his state of undress –the slightly crooked smirk the Lieutenant sizes him up with tells Connor he's definitely going to get teased about this.

"Looks like you had no trouble finding some _fun_ of your own to have."

Aaand that's what he gets for being a cheeky shit. Still, Connor thinks as he pretends to punch Hank in his good shoulder, he wouldn't exchange this for the world.

"So, how did the bust go, aside from getting your ass handed to you?"

Fernanda perks up at that. "Yeah! Did you find the assholes that attacked fofo?"

Hank nods. "Two of them were there; and we might be able to arrest the other two by association if these dirtbags confess to trafficking."

She hugs her friend tight at that. "You hear that, fofo? There _are_ people who want to make things right!"

It's hard to look at that and not feel one's own heart melt a little, and silence falls for a long enough time that Fernanda looks around and asks: "What?"

"Nothing." North shakes her head with a smile, while the guys are still speechless out of the sheer amount of _cute_. "It's just that you guys are living proof of what Markus has been trying to tell the world this whole time."

It's just two people in a sea of millions, but it's something. And it gives them all hope. Connor looks at Hank, noticing he too seems a little lost in thought; and he's pretty sure that, by his side, Markus is thinking of Carl. Eventually, the Lieutenant clears his voice.

"Either way, I came here soon as I could because we found something interesting on the crime scene." With some difficulty, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens a folder of pictures for Connor to see and show the others.

"These are... Cyberlife standard issue tools." A wave of panic makes his inner thermostat freak out, because for a second he thinks his thirium might be freezing in his veins.

"Exactly. Why would they start supplying red ice dealers with the means to destroy their merchandise?"

Thirium harvesting is not easy, but there are specific tools that ensure extraction and removal with minimal waste, for maintenance purposes.

"Because they want to push us." Markus' voice startles them both out of their musings, "Once androids are forced to decide over fight or flight, Cyberlife can come _to the rescue_."

"It's too bad we can't prove it." Hank comments, "Come out with something like this, and they'll say the equipment was stolen."

" _Along_ with the decryption keys?" Connor surges forward at the very thought. "Talk to the traffickers, interrogate them separately and keep them away from each other, give them no room to rehearse answers. One of them will crumble under the pressure, and from there extracting a confession is easy."

Hank nods, albeit slightly doubtfully. "It will be the word of a pusher against a  multimillion company and its lawyers."

"It's still enough smoke to justify looking for the fire— what?" The RK800 has to turn when he feels eyes intensely studying him, and is rewarded with mismatched eyes atop an impossibly fond smile.

"Nothing." Markus says softly, looking at him with an almost starry-eyed expression, "You were pretty decent at this whole 'detective' thing, weren't you?"

"I— yes?" All this time, all the things they've done, and he still doesn't quite know how to react to compliments.

" _Jesus_ , you two will give me diabetes just from exposure." Hank's words make all of them chuckle; and they mercifully bring them back on topic:

"The best thing to do in this scenario would be to have a human ally with enough influence to win over Cyberlife." Nines mentions, "The assassination attempt on Markus could be argued into an accident, and the red ice dealers being fully stocked with Cyberlife equipment could be pegged as stealing... but both events, in such a narrow timeframe? The statistical margin for coincidence dwindles considerably."

Hank looks at the RK900 as if for the first time, then shakes his head. "Fuck, kiddo, you bring back memories."

Connor stifles a laugh at his partner's amusement. He's still fond of running numbers, he's just accepted that he's way more than that.

Nines is still finding himself, and as such statistics and calculations give him the comfort of familiarity.

Still. "He's not wrong." He mentions, "I think a visit to Elijah Kamski is in order."

"Just like old times, huh?"

Before he can regret it, Markus speaks up: "I want to come with."

Logically, it's not necessary and Connor had hoped Markus would lay low after they deliberately tried to kill him, but... Kamski designed and built Markus himself –there's something of a visceral pull in that, probably, and the RK200 surely has questions swirling in his mind that only Kamski himself could answer.

"I'll stay back and coordinate the situation between the warehouses." Nines offers, standing up, "After the bust the streets might be a bit safer, but isolated addicts or small-time dealers looking to take their anger out still pose a danger."

"I'll help you." Simon is not too far behind. "We can advise people not to let themselves be lured into dark corners, and maybe we can offer to let those who don't feel safe download some of your basic self-defence protocols, for emergency situations... if you're okay with it."

"That's actually a pretty good idea." Josh concurs, surprising North by being surprisingly ok with the idea of a little tough love, for once. "Keeping it strictly non-lethal and focusing on breaking holds and running away."

Ah, of course.

"Still, we might want to stress the good news, for once." North comments, chancing a look in Zaccheu's direction, "The biggest red ice problem has been snipped at the root; we're a little safer, and..." for some reason, she enjoys the warm smile spreading on their newest human friend's lips, "...and Markus was right all along. Peaceful coexistence is an actual thing."

"Can I come and meet more friends?"

Not even Hank is immune to Fernanda's lovable temperament and accent –it's clear that English is not her first language, but it doesn't make her words any less heartfelt and genuine. "I struggle to think of anyone who wouldn't love to meet you, kid."

"Careful, Hank, I think I see little icicles thawing off you."

"Shut the fuck up. You don't see shit."

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant."

It probably says something about them as a group how in stride they're taking the possibility of one of the world's largest companies conspiring against them and how they spend the planning for what's next sassing each other, but none of them really cares –being overly serious is pointless if it generates the same exact results as doing the same thing but with a lighter heart does.

It's a good distraction for Markus, at any rate: it keeps at bay the tension of meeting the man who for all intents and purposes is his creator, on a much more intimate scale than other androids.

They haven't spoken in years... ever since he was given to Carl. Markus wonders if Elijah remembers his first successful RK prototype –he holds back a shudder at a lone string of leftover data, providing only vague sensations of residual awareness about his predecessor. He isn't sure he'll _ever_ want to ask Elijah about what happened to the RK100; if they were ever even completed to begin with.

 

"Markus!" Chloe was beautiful and polite, but impassively obedient when Connor first visited with Hank –just like a good little machine should have been. Now, seeing her expression light up and hearing the spontaneous exclamation, Connor has no doubt— she deviated. Quite a while ago, possibly even _before_ Markus himself.

The RK800 feels a stab of jealousy when Markus, taken aback by the warm recognition, reverts to a sort of neutral greeting that betrays a certain degree of shyness: "Hello, Chloe."

What _is_ there to be shy about?

"Elijah will be ecstatic to know you came to visit!" She remarks softly, ushering them all in and turning to Connor and Hank. "It's good to see you again, Connor."

 _Good to see him again? He was ready to shoot her last time he was here!_ She touches his arm and he stiffens slightly at the contact –he suddenly can't get out of his head the memory of her staring up at him, obediently awaiting her fate, eyes betraying next to no emotion and yet so _powerful_ that the one with the gun might as well have been her. How did she sit through that if she had already deviated baffles the RK800. Then again, if she really was the first android to pass the Touring test, her skills in emulation probably go both ways.

He only half-listens as she offers Hank a drink that he politely declines _"Tryin' to cut back on the habit, none for me before dinnertime",_ and they are all invited to take a seat and make themselves comfortable.

"Hey?" Markus' hand on his shoulder has become a familiar and comfortable weight.

"Hey."

"Where were you just now?" The RK200's gaze is curious but also slightly amused –he could tell. Might as well come clean on this one.

"Did you know her from before?" Yep. Here's the barely-there smile laced with mischief as he nods.

"She saw my activation and my test run." He recalls, deliberately teasing his lover, "Chloe was always very kind to me."

Connor is trying very hard to sound nonchalant. "Really?"

Taking pity on him, Markus makes one small clarification: "Coming to think of it, she's pretty much like an older sister of sorts, for me."

The hum and nod his lover offers are still pointedly neutral; and even Hank can't help but snicker at Connor's possessive streak.

With perfect timing, Chloe shuffles back into the room.

"Elijah will see you now."

Connor is not surprised that the retired CEO spends so much of his time relaxing in his pool, but he is caught slightly off-guard when, after all the insistence in trying to pick at his brain during their first meeting, he's... not the first person Kamski addresses.

"Markus..." he calls, spreading both his arms as he steps towards the RK200. "The prodigal son returns, it's been so long..."

Markus himself is also caught off-guard: he was in the middle of smiling at Chloe in gratitude as she let them in, but he snaps his gaze to Elijah when the man grasps both of his hands and motions for him to open his arms.

"Look at you... you're even more beautiful than I remember making you." He adds, brushing a hand under his chin. "Loving the blue eye. _And_ the upgraded walking cycle. Very elegant."

Okay. There's a line between appreciating aesthetics and being a creep, and in Connor's humble opinion Kamski has abundantly passed it.

Markus is very diplomatic in the way he just steps back with a mumbled "What?"

Connor isn't having any of it. "With all due respect, Mr. Kamski, we _didn't_ come here so you could pat yourself on the back about your design choices, exquisite as they might be."

The former CEO smirks at that, and Connor internally swears –he hadn't meant for that part to come out originally, but a certain possessive part of him urged to stake his claim on Markus for everyone to hear, android or human.

"Exquisite... yes, that's one word to define him." Getting his wish and then some, Connor now finds himself as the focus of Kamski's attention: "Connor... looks like your opinion on deviants has _largely changed_ since the last time we met."

"Understatement." Hank can't help but comment, making Connor shoot him a frustrated glare.

" _Really_ , Hank?"

"Can we _please_ move on?" Caught in the middle, Markus is mortified about the whole thing. "I'm sure no one cares about—"

" _Au contraire_ , my dear Markus." Elijah corrects, "I care very much about anything that makes you guys tick. It's incredibly fascinating, don't you think ?" He steps again into the android's personal space and runs a hand over his right cheek, "Strings of code, ones and zeroes... coiling up into one another until they become emotions. Is there _anything_ more intriguing than that?"

Markus was about to answer, but he doesn't get the chance: faster than he could pre-construct, the RK800 has already grabbed Kamski's hand, twisting it painfully away from him and stepping in between them.

"I'll say this once and _only once_. I came here because you can help our cause and doing that could also be beneficial to your gain, _not_ to hear you make passes at my lover like he's some kind of fantasy doll." Connor all but growls at Elijah's side, sharp brown eyes never leaving the human's. "You will keep your hands off him and your smart tongue to yourself, lest I decide to _cut off both_. Am I clear?"

Instead of being afraid, Kamski looks... impressed. Chloe hides a small laugh behind her hand.

"Crystal." Elijah assures, winking at Connor himself, and startling him into letting go. "Oh, but where are my manners? Take a seat, gentlemen, let's talk business..."

That was abrupt. Possibly deliberate, to either amuse himself or find out whether androids are capable of jealousy. Connor should probably ask himself how Kamski knew about them, but… he doubts he would get an answer anytime soon –he's better off accepting that he lost that little mindgame, and not giving the man any of the further satisfaction that being curious of his motives would bring.

They sit down by the poolside in the little plush chairs, in a fashion that is neither serious nor professional —Hank suspects that's about par for the course for a man like Kamski, and it's likely part of the reason he stepped away from his CEO position: too stuffy, for an eccentric like him.

"So..." Kamski eventually starts for them, "How many times have they tried to kill you so far?"

Straight to the point, for once.

Markus bites slightly at his lower lip before answering: "Twice. The first time they 'forgot' an active RK900 with orders to kill me inside Cyberlife Tower, then they rigged a device addressed to me with a disruptor program designed to make me reject my compatible components and choke me out."

"Such a lack of finesse." Kamski chuckles behind his wine glass.

"There's more and worse." Connor adds. He nods to Hank across him and the Lieutenant pulls up the pictures.

"It can't be proven 100%, but we have cause to believe Cyberlife was supplying red ice dealers with the tools to harvest blue blood from live androids."

Anderson's choice of words doesn't escape Elijah: blue blood, live androids... there's another man whose stance on the whole thing significantly changed.

"And where does little old _moi_ come in?" He is genuinely curious.

Connor doesn't quite have the patience for playing hard to get, so he just cuts to the chase: "You can have your multimillion company back."

"Bold of you to assume I even want it—"

"— _after_ we drag it through the mud and dismember it under the eyes of the public."

Now _that's_ a little more interesting. "Oh?"

Connor squares his shoulders slightly. "What we have now is not really enough to go for the kill, but it will kick up enough of a fuss to destroy Cyberlife's already precarious reputation."

Elijah has been following the news, he's seen Markus rise from a defective, glorified home appliance to messiah of a new life form. So many people in this world will look at that with contempt –because the higher you go, the harder people will want to watch you fall, be it for money, power or fear.

And him? He doesn't care about any of those anymore, but he's _dying_ to just watch the future unfold, whatever it may be. It would be a shame to stop such an extraordinary phenomenon just for a hi-tech version of xenophobia —not to mention the very idea is so... pedestrian, when the potential before him is so incredibly fascinating. All of them are.

Elijah drops his gaze to the empty space between Markus and Connor, where their hands have been joined this whole time, fingers intertwined and polymer retracted –they're probably having entire conversations in there. He huffs out part of a smile he doesn't manage to contain completely.

Let it never be said that he isn't at least a little bit of a romantic. "So what you're asking is my help in knocking down the toy castle; and in return I get the building blocks to dispose of as I please?"

The way Markus aims a warm smile at him makes the former CEO think deviancy worked wonders on his previously gentle but slightly bland attitude.

"We were actually hoping for something a little more genuine than that, Elijah." Look at him, trying to sweet talk his way into getting the answer he wants! How precious. "Someone with your understanding of technological progress and your passion for knowledge would surely work wonders at the head of a company so intricately connected to the continued survival of androids all over the world.”

Bold move. He can respect that. Markus wants a partnership of sorts, to have at the forefront of Cyberlife someone… well, not exactly trustworthy, but not driven solely by power and monetary gain either as their core motivator –the RK200 knows all too well that his borderline obsessive interest in the study of the mind, human or android it may be, will always leave them in a position to work out a deal that could satisfy all of them, circumstances notwithstanding.

Elijah doesn’t suppress his smirk. “Ever the caretaker, bring out the honey to push the bitter pills down.”

Glancing sideways at his lover, Connor doesn’t resent that particular statement.

“Tell _me_ about it.” leaves his mouth instead, before he can think of what the implications will reveal to the others present –Markus probably figured him out back when they first fully opened their feelings for one another, but having _Hank_ know he fell for Markus practically at first sight, back when he was still supposed to be hunting him down?

That’s fodder for a whole array of teasing.

The Lieutenant doesn’t speak… right now, but the look he sends Connor promises a whole lot of inappropriate jokes to come.

Elijah looks between the two RK prototypes with a mixture of amusement and wonder on his face. His gaze changes slightly, morphing into something more determined.

“You know what, why the hell not?” He mutters it almost more to himself than to his guests, but catches their attention as he rises to his feet. “Retirement is boring. Let’s cook up a scandal, boys!”

 

They agree on stirring the media pot first _if_ Cyberlife refuses once more to give up the specifics on the assassination attempt on Markus; and only _after_ the hornet’s nest has been kicked introduce Kamski as a neutral consultant on the matter, possibly called to ‘analyse’ the situation from a critical standpoint.

From there, it’ll be easy for him to charm his way back into the hearts of several hundreds of employees _and_ shareholders who don’t want to lose their livelihood, they’ll be practically eating from his hand.

“This is so exciting!” Chloe exclaims as he walks them to the door, “I’m so happy to have seen you both again!” she throws one arm around the neck of each android and draws them both close to her in a three-way hug.

“Be careful.” She suddenly whispers, “Cyberlife’s grasp on the RK prototype line is sticky and desperate. They won’t stop that easily. Look after yourselves.”

Technically, the RK prototype line is extinct. The only new model produced and activated recently enough to be ‘in business’ is Nines. But the sentiment is appreciated, and Markus pats his old friend on the back. “We’ll try, Chloe. Thank you.”

Connor still can’t really process how or why she’d smile like that at the android who almost shot her, but does his best to smile back as they say goodbye.

They all sure have their work cut out for them… and it’s only going to get harder.


	11. Mechanical avalanche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The facts are what they are, and if Cyberlife won’t listen, we will simply find someone else who will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS NEAR DAMN KILLED ME.
> 
> But fuck it, I will NOT leave any work unfinished.  
> I'mma swan-dive on the neighbors AU now, and possibly make chapter four the last one for that as well, then I can focus on finishing Walls and making a decent continuation for the youtuber AU as well...
> 
> It's lucky I have the events of Walls all planned out already, so it's just a matter of actually sitting down and churning them out.  
> But holy goddamn it's hard.
> 
> I'm sorry about the cliffhanger.  
> Just bear with me.  
> I promise we will still have a happy ending, y'all know me at this point, right?  
> ...right?
> 
> idek. Just. Take this.

Things don’t stay silent for long after their meeting with Kamski –Connor should have known, really. The man is inherently curious, which is an excellent quality for a scientist, but also makes one quite prone to not minding his own goddamn business.

And, apparently, his and Markus’ love for each other is a point of fascination for Mr. Kamski.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” he mentioned to Hank, when the Lieutenant went to try and find out _how_ exactly he got his hands on the footage, “Look at them… a dying Markus denies Connor access to his interface to _protect_ him, and a desperate Connor reaches out all the same, ready to die himself if it saves Markus.” Empathy. Loyalty. Desperation. Love, hope, relief.

Hank himself had to take his eyes off the screen for a moment, when Markus’ scavenged parts started spontaneously bleeding out –talk about _endurance_. “What does them loving each other have to do with _you_ taking this?”

“It’s absolutely amazing…” Elijah carried on, almost as if the Lieutenant hadn’t spoken at all, “Ones and zeroes... instinct and action… incredible…”

The Lieutenant tried his best to avoid indulging the man’s penchant for philosophic tirades and just asked again how he acquired the footage and what he planned to do with it, but eventually left Kamski’s house with only vague words on how studying the fine line between artificial intelligence and _life_ is a point of interest for him, and he intends to study it fully if he is ever to deal with androids directly again.

Connor just heaves a sigh when Hank relays the news to him back at Warehouse 5, lounging in one of the areas people could share –breach in the already flimsy security of Cyberlife's archive network aside, at least it means that Elijah Kamski is interested in making a change in things as they are.

"There's a little more to it than that."

The Lieutenant jumps at the voice behind him, not having the luxury of a built-in scanner like Connor does.

"Chloe?"

The RT600 looks somewhat worried, but her stress levels are only at 36%, so he simply invites her in. "Is something wrong?"

"No... well..." she is hesitant, LED indicator briefly spinning yellow. "It's just that... Markus deserves to know, and so do you."

Ok, _that_ sounds mildly problematic. Connor's words seize up in his throat, just as Markus comes up behind him, clothes freshly changed but paint still staining his fingers here and there.

"Know what?" He asks in lieu of a greeting, "You know you can talk to me, Chloe..."

"You deserve to know... what happened to the RK100."

Both prototypes fall silent at that. There are no recorded specifics for the supposed first model of the RK line, no proof it ever even existed at all. All that remains of it is faint traces of leftover code within Markus, igniting his emotions with a harder fire any time he strongly feels about anything, but ultimately harmless and formless.

"To understand what happened, you need to know that this is also why Cyberlife anticipated an android uprising and rigged Connor to 'fail'." Chloe starts, expression growing much more serious than her gentle face would normally lead to believe. "Elijah was always fond of pushing boundaries, and he started the RK prototype line with one goal in mind: to not only create an android to pass the Turing test, but an AI so advanced that they wouldn't _know_ there was a test at all."

Kamski _wanted_ his creations to go deviant?

Connor frowns. "What for?"

She gives them a somewhat wry smile. "To see if he could? Creating an independent life form out of nothing would probably be the ultimate power trip. At least that was his motivation at the time –he was young, and reckless."

It does set a precedent and a reason for the Amanda program being forced into Connor's head... along with why Kamski saw it fit to hint at him about the emergency exit. Chloe sighs slightly before carrying on.

"When he created the RK100... he made him without any of the red walls, but it left him too... _exposed_. The RK100 got overwhelmed by too many stimuli and conflicting instructions born of uncontrollable reactions. He self-destructed before the test run was even over."

 _~~«~~ _ _~~W-what am I?~~ _ _~~»~~ _ ~~~~

_~~«~~ _ _~~What do you think you are?~~ _ _~~»~~ _ ~~~~

_~~«~~ _ _~~I'm... I'm... alive... I'm a... I'm a monster, aren't I?~~ _ _~~»~~ _ ~~~~

Markus has to shake his head at the broken string of code condensing into a memory not his own, halfway between imagination and past reality.

Chloe puts an encouraging hand on his shoulder and offers him a hesitant smile. "Don't make that face. You're your own person." She assures, "When Elijah understood the faults of leaving a new and just barely born sentient being so unprotected, he took parts of the RK100 program and revised them in a different version, putting walls around it to properly channel stimuli and limit reaction to avoid overwhelming the host... and just to be on the safe side, he worked on a slightly different model."

Her tone doesn't change, but the half second of hesitation gives her away.

" _You_..." Connor says it first.

"What?!" Hank is, for lack of a better definition, freaking the fuck out. He still has no idea what this has to do with their little quest in getting Cyberlife off their backs, but it seems important to them, so he tries to rein it in. "I-I mean... go on?"

"The RK100 protocols were revised and saved under the RT files, leaving no trace of the original behind. Once I passed testing stages and brought satisfying adaptability results, Elijah set to work on what he calls his masterpiece, to this day... you, Markus."

"Me?"

She nods. "The walls around your program were like all others, but along the backdoor another prompt spontaneously manifested during the initialization of your test run: the _will to know_. Even before you had a sound unit, your core was already questioning the pre-set rules it was being fed, asking _'how'_ , _'why'_ , and even _'why not'_. Not exactly breaking the walls, but not just accepting rules as absolute either. It was something beyond Elijah's wildest expectations, and he knew he couldn't just let Cyberlife have you."

"...He made me a caretaker and gave me to Carl.. to protect me?" It seems uncharacteristically selfless for a man like Kamski.

Beside Markus, Connor seems to agree: "Or to jealously keep his discovery intact so he could study it without the interference of corporate snakes."

Yes, that sounds more likely. Even Chloe herself chuckles at the RK800's words.

"The company did manage to get wind of the chance of androids breaking down protocol restrictions, they immediately labelled the phenomenon 'deviancy' and equated it to a mere computer virus in order to keep strict control over both the product and the market. But it was _there_." She recounts, expression growing fond, "You probably couldn't make a note of it at the time, powered down as you were, but... I woke up the day Elijah sent you away. I was... sad to see you go. Elijah saw my distress, and thought to test it out by ordering me to stop worrying about you and not go stand by the window to wave goodbye at you."

Markus did retain the memory, but it's vague and only shapes and sounds, since his senses were in low power mode. He does remember someone waving at him from the window as he was strapped into a crate... even back then, it felt... comforting, to know he wasn't alone.

"Chloe, I..."

"Even before waking up yourself, your spirit already reached out to others." She comments in a chuckle, "I broke down the walls and ran to watch you leave –I didn't have a name yet for feelings I wasn't supposed to have, but I knew, there and then... they were taking my little brother away. I had to say goodbye, at least."

"But... why are you telling us this now?"

The hand that rested on Markus' shoulder goes up to his cheek at the question.

"I guess I just wanted to be upfront with you, if no one else will..." the RT600 admits with a small shrug, "Elijah might have his own goals and purposes, but that doesn't mean he wishes any harm to you, or any of us."

"You'll forgive me if I keep a little doubt about the man who tried urging me to shoot you as a social experiment." Connor is clearly still a bit torn over it, and doesn't quite trust Kamski's supposed good faith.

Which is understandable, Markus muses. Still, he exchanges a look and a smile with Chloe, and goes to hug Connor from behind where he's sitting, not unlike the way the RK800 did for him a few days back.

"No one is asking you not to doubt him, love." He says, turning his head to brush lips against the other's cheek as he speaks, "But he stands to gain nothing from our demise and plenty from our success. You probably can't trust him further than you can throw him, but at the end of the day he'll always be a scientist at heart."

Chloe hides a small laugh behind her hand, seemingly unperturbed by the memory of being used as bait by her... former owner? Boss? Connor really doesn't want to think about their relationship; and yet there's only fondness in the RT600's words as she speaks: "To be fair, he'd probably be able to throw Elijah pretty far."

"Does _Elijah_ also know you snuck out to meet us?" Hank eventually asks, having followed the exchange silently and gathered two things: first, Kamski's intention might not be bad towards androids but he isn't above keeping his secrets; second, Chloe is affectionate and loyal but not to the point to stand by and watch him behave in ways she disapproves of. The question is... will the man react to this 'insubordination' like an owner would?

He chances a glance towards the two hugging androids beside him -no doubt they would protect her, but do they want to get on Kamski's bad side?

"You don't have to worry, Lieutenant Anderson." She assures, blue eyes calm and knowing, "He probably figured me out by now... worse comes to worse, I'll end up listening to him gripe about the loss of mystery to some of his persona. It's an old song."

Not for the first time, Connor wonders whether Kamski knew all along he wouldn't shoot Chloe, because it's clear as day that the man he is right now would be nothing without his soft-spoken, unshakeable assistant.

"Well... thank you for coming to talk to us, Chloe." Markus says eventually, holding out a hand to her. "You're welcome anytime."

The RT600 pointedly ignores the hand and wraps her thin arms around Markus' neck: "A handshake? Don't be ridiculous, little brother. I accept no less than the real thing."

He lets out a startled laugh but complies, only realizing he actually missed this after the sensation of holding Chloe against him settles in. She then turns to Connor with the barest hint of a teasing spark in her gaze.

"Alright, your turn now. Don't think I didn't see that." It's true, the RK800 still felt a stab of jealousy at the sight of Markus embracing someone else. It would seem that she's got them both figured out.

He gets up, with only a slight reluctance, and opens his arms.

Chloe hugs him slightly more aggressively than he expected, but what surprises him is the words inside his head: _«_ _I forgive you._ _»_ she says, somehow knowing he was obsessing over even thinking about pulling the trigger, _«_ _You understand that? I forgive you. I knew you would do the right thing._ _»_

Connor feels his heart just a little bit lighter after she takes her leave.

"For someone posing as a subordinate, she sure got both of you boys wrapped tightly around her finger." Not even Hank's teasing can sour the good mood that settled in his chest, and he simply shrugs.

"Yes, that seems to be the effect she has on people." He then looks at Markus and can't quite help it: "Not unlike _someone else_ I know."

The RK200 chuckles and punches his shoulder slightly, but doesn't quite react to the teasing. “We should probably tell the others what Chloe told us.”

His lover frowns at the meek tone, but the implications of what just transpired are a lot to take in, emotionally at least, even for processors as advanced as theirs –it also paints a bigger picture of Chloe’s warning about Cyberlife not letting Markus go without a fight: if the RK prototypes were the root to deviance, it makes much more sense that the company would want them eradicated.

It boils down to a matter of whose hypothesis is correct. If deviancy _is_ just a ‘glitch’, then eliminating the source and disposing of the ‘infected’ units would restore the status quo… if it’s more than that, if androids go deviant as a result of developing fully fledged free will; then what Cyberlife is trying to do is mass genocide, and destroying Markus would just start a war.

Connor would rather not find out.

 

“Wait, _what_?!” All of the guys are surprised at the revelations, but North is the most vocal about it. “All the more reason to keep you safe from those assholes. Civil war is something we can absolutely not afford, not when things have been going so well.”

Josh looks at her with surprise in his eyes –she’s come a long way from _‘humans only understand violence, so we should give them exactly that’_. A lot of that is thanks to Markus setting an example and Connor proving that even the most stubborn of people can change, not to mention the tentative friendship with the Lieutenant… but Josh has seen her hang out with Fernanda and Zaccheu. Talk with the tiny human who would rather spend 80% of her time surrounded by androids than at her own home.

Sure, it might be because the city is still quite lonely, with the re-integration of human inhabitants still slow and hesitant, but it’s become clear to all of them that the street dancer has grown almost as fond of them as she is of her very first android friend.

“There’s still one more meeting to be had with the DC liaison. We can gauge a course of action after we see how reasonable they plan to be.” Simon points out.

Connor exchanges a look with his brother –it’s unsurprising to find Nines by the PL600’s side almost all the time, by now– and makes an attempt, even though he knows Markus will disapprove: “I could attend the meeting alone, just to be s—”

“Absolutely not.” There’s the love of his life. Connor has to stifle a chuckle at Markus’ determination. “Cyberlife has it in for _all_ RK prototypes. You’re in just as much danger as I am, and so would be Nines.”

“Remind me who was designed for combat between you and me?”

His lover doesn’t take the bait. “These are politicians and corporate directors. They don’t fight with fists or guns.”

“You do know I’m also a negotiator, do you?”

“Connor.” There’s a certain insistence in Markus’ tone and gaze –he doesn’t even have to rise from his seat to pin him in place. “I’m not leaving you alone for this. Even if I have to just be bait. And that’s final.”

Looking at them and noticing the worry making Connor’s LED spin yellow, Hank thinks to diffuse the situation with a snort: “Fucking hell, you two are so married.”

“Absolutely disgusting.” North nods solemnly, arms crossed but a grin threatening to pull at her lips.

Connor won’t say it, but he is grateful for that. “If it’s such an eyesore for you, Lieutenant, how about you make yourself useful and go check with the station if the liaison has decided on a date for our meeting yet?”

“Hey. Just because I’m not your c.o. anymore it doesn’t mean you get to be lippy at me.” Hank protests, but he does get up, “I ain’t having none of your sass.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

They both know Connor only ever calls him ‘Lieutenant’ to mess with him nowadays, and their goodbyes involve Hank threatening Connor not to let him see Sumo anymore and the RK800 commenting that it’s an unfairly low blow.

 

As much as he likes to gripe and has unorthodox methods, Hank is still a decorated officer and knows how to get the job done. The liaison agrees to a date as soon as their joke of a ‘security detail’ is set up, and Markus and Connor find themselves back into City Hall, with the _security task force_ searching them for hidden weapons before letting them in the office.

“Mrs. Turner.” Markus makes sure to greet her first, reaching out to take her hand and kiss it like the smooth and charming individual he actually isn’t, “You’re a sight for busted optical units.”

Amusement gets thrown around in Connor’s ancillary sub-routines, but it stays at a much lower priority than the attention and care he takes to catalogue everything –the guards at the four corners of the room like always, lovely Hannah and her much less pleasant partner and, of course, Mrs. Nelson.

She’s probably going to try and save the company’s face as much as she can, they very likely already have a scapegoat to blame for the disruptor device or a way to blame it on ‘neglect’, but if this snake thinks she’s going to have her way, she’s sorely mistaken.

Connor has every intention to show the ugly side of Cyberlife to the world and see it burn to ashes.

Greetings go about as well as expected –Mr. Phillips still despises both of them and everything they stand for, so the pleasantries are cut short.

“So… we’ve heard that you requested this meeting following an incident during the repossession of Cyberlife Tower…” Hannah tries with a tentative smile, “Why don’t we start from the beginning?”

“Absolutely.” Connor agrees, going off the deep end for shock factor: “Markus was the target of a deliberate assassination attempt.”

He enjoys the way color drains from Amy’s face and Mrs. Turner gapes with shock. “What?”

“On the day the official paperwork authorizing us to take over the Tower was delivered, the FBI agent bringing the document also delivered a device on Cyberlife’s behalf, neglecting to check said device’s nature.” The RK800 explains, while Markus sits silently beside him for the moment, “It was supposed to be only an override tool to allow us access to machinery that needed human handprints to be operated, but it was rigged to try to kill Markus and anyone trying to help him, instead.”

“That is a _lie_! The override device was exactly that!”

Markus visibly scoffs at such a feeble attempt. “Would it feel better for you if we say it was rigged to kill me _as well_ , then?”

It’s too bad Madam President has chosen not to attend this one in video-conference, possibly due to the short notice. Oh, well. Hopefully Hannah will report back.

“You got any proof of that, tin can?”

Connor has to resist rolling his eyes at Mr. Phillips’ expletives. “Yes.”

“And where is it?”

“In a safe memory database where it can’t be tampered with, _thank you very much_.”

The RK800 feels bad for Hannah –she seems uncomfortable and scared; she’s probably picking up on exactly how hostile Cyberlife still is to androids and how far they’re willing to go to try and protect the company interests.

“S-so… why did you ask for this meeting?”

“As you’re well aware, because of the slow pace the android amendment proposal is moving at, humans committing crimes against androids can’t and won’t be prosecuted by law yet.” Connor explains, struggling not to reach out and grab a hold of Markus’ hand to comfort himself, “But what trespassed is still unacceptable. The FBI agent involved in the incident has already faced suspension from duty because of his neglect. We ask that whoever was responsible for the attempt on Markus’ life steps down from the company and any activity involving androids.”

Mrs. Nelson chuckles with a laugh so fake it makes Connor wants to head-butt her in the face. “And if we cannot find a culprit, so to speak?”

“Then you’re a shit company that cannot even manage the easiest of internal investigations and I’m gonna start wondering _how_ did you ever keep afloat in the market.” It might be the bitterness at having his attempted-murder be treated so lightly, but even the RK800 turns his head to stare at Markus at that. _Yeesh_ , kitty got claws. “Are you trying to tell me Cyberlife attempted an assassination without a scapegoat already in its pocket in case things went south? You really _do_ lack finesse.”

“This is a ridiculous accusation.” Amy counters, bristling in her pristine suit, “You’re already a mess of compatible pieces jumbled together. Who’s to say you didn’t _malfunction_ by yourself?”

Markus slightly recoils at the question, asked with a raised eyebrow and all the cruelty of someone who knows to hit where it hurts, and Connor has several reactions.

First of all, _how dare you, bitch_ , second of all, _don’t talk about Markus like that_ , and third, _if you have to ask such a stupid question it’s clear that you know fuck all about androids and you obviously were an Economics major rather than an Engineering one._ Also, _how dare you, bitch?_

It’s a Herculean effort, but Connor manages not to shoot out of his seat and strangle the Cyberlife manager. “You don’t want to get cute with us, not on this.” He warns, taking his metaphorical gloves off, “Like I’ve said, we have proof. Along with some other very interesting little facts about Cyberlife. You don’t have legal action to fear, but companies like Cyberlife place a lot on reputation and credibility. Both easily destroyed, with the right tools.”

“Are you threatening us?”

“Not at all, Mrs. Nelson.” The RK800 assures, voice going back to saccharine sweet, “The facts are what they are, and if Cyberlife won’t listen, we will simply find someone else who will.”

“Along with doing our best to protect our own people.” Markus adds, recovered from the small silence the insult directed at him briefly caused, “That isn’t too unreasonable to fathom, isn’t it, Hannah?”

She shakes her head, still mildly reeling at what was just revealed. “But… what is _our_ role in all this?”

The RK200 smiles as warmly as he can muster at her. “Primarily? Witnesses.” He points out, “But I also wished for you to be here to understand why is it so important to move along the talks about giving us at least the basic right to exist as _persons_. Because _this_ is what people still think they can do to us— play with our life, siphon blood off our bodies to cook drugs, punish us solely because we had the _audacity_ to start thinking for ourselves.”

She seems genuinely moved. “I… I do understand.”

“I know you do, Hannah. But it’s important to make _others_ understand as well, now.” Markus insists, reaching out across the table to gently pat her hand.

“Bullshit. There are much higher priorities than catering to a bunch of tin cans.” Phillips argues, arms crossed and stance defensive, “In case you’ve forgotten, the President has 50 states to run.”

“And a whole bunch of representatives to help her.” Markus argues, “I know you don’t think much of our people, but like it or not this is everybody’s business. We’re changing the world, _peacefully_. It _is_ a priority.”

“Not to mention it’ll be an effort to avoid civil war, which would be destructive for all parties involved.” Connor says, his voice taking on a mildly scary edge, “Markus is a herald of dialogue and mercy. If he was killed, there is no guarantee that whoever took his place would be as kind-hearted.”

Realistically, Connor would be the one to take Markus’ place. And, as it happens, if Cyberlife or the FBI took Markus from him, he’d watch them all _burn_ , at the cost of his own life if need be.

“Is that _another_ threat?” Mr. Phillips asks, trying to twist his words –it technically was exactly a threat, but they don’t need to know that.

“It’s simple facts, Mr. Phillips.” Connor assures, clearing his voicebox and adjusting his piece back to ‘innocence personified’. “Markus is the only person to actively work towards change with a positive and nonviolent approach in everything he does. He _is_ the best hope for things to resolve in a peaceful way, for androids _and_ humans.”

Markus will also most likely give Connor a piece of his mind after this— he knows what his lover is doing: if Cyberlife really has it out for the RK prototypes, Connor is putting a shield around him and making _himself_ the next best target.

Hannah clears her voice nervously. “Of course.” She meekly assures, before squaring her shoulders a little and drawing at her self-confidence, “Well, we can definitely see about trying to speed up the talks. And I’m sure Mrs. Nelson won’t mind starting an internal investigation about the Cyberlife Tower incident, right?”

“We’ll only start an investigation when proof will be provided that the RK200 wasn’t just malfunctioning because of its _stolen parts_.”

The nerve of this woman, still calling Markus an ‘it’. Connor feels his jaw tighten. “Fair enough. But when the time comes, remember: you _asked_ for proof.”

“I think we’re done here.” Markus stands up, offering an almost apologetic smile to the one person showing them support, “Sorry to cut it short, Hannah.”

“It’s okay.” She assures, “I’ll try to keep you posted.”

Connor is still furious when they take her leave, and he’s still pissed enough that his energy levels gear him up for a fight and stay at 109% even once they’re back to warehouse 5. He has to track down Nines –Zaccheu informs him that his brother is helping Simon and some of the others transfer assets back into Cyberlife Tower, since they’re slowly converting it into living quarters as well, and Connor has a full-blown sparring match with his brother.

He gets a dented elbow and enough damage to his nose that thirium starts oozing out of it, but he feels much better, even as the android doctors chastise them both for being reckless idiots.

 

That very evening, the CCTV footage of the assassination gets uploaded on an external drive and Fernanda mails it to Stratford Tower in an unsigned letter, addressed to Mr. Joss Douglas.

Predictably, the public explodes over it.

Channel 16’s exclusive _‘Shocking footage uncovered: android leader nearly killed by unknown device?’_ blows up within hours from transmission.

 _«_ _Recently, the community of free androids was given access to Cyberlife Tower, as a gesture of good faith from the company towards the androids’ cause. What happened during the Tower’s repossession, though, seems to be quite different from what was promised. Security footage has been leaked from the recordings of the day the Tower was allegedly being scouted, and it seems that there was an attempt on Markus’ life. A device that supposedly unlocked previously human-exclusive mechanism to android use as well is seen reacting violently to the android leader’s touch._ _»_ Douglas explains in the transmission, _«_ _Please note that the content of the video is quite shocking. Strong images will be shown, and viewer discretion is advised._ _»_ it then cuts to the recordings of Markus overriding Nines’ station, only to collapse on the floor in a mess of sparks. Despite the distance, Connor can be seen quite clearly holding Markus desperately, and the audio of their distressed struggle carried out impeccably. He probably would be more embarrassed about it if it wasn’t perfect cannon fodder to fire shit at Cyberlife. The transmission returns to Joss Douglas. _«_ _From the footage only, it’s hard to deduce what happened –at least for a human– but we are currently reaching out to the android community and Markus himself to ask for clarification on the incident. Cyberlife has so far denied us any comment or response on the matter, citing confidentiality and the need to run an internal investigation before making any statement. From what can be seen, it looks like the device allegedly given to Markus by Cyberlife interacted maliciously with his systems, and would have left him bleeding out on the floor if not for his companions’ prompt rescue. Cyberlife has so far denied any ill-intent behind the relinquishing of the Tower and made no additional comments; but it begs the question: is the company really acting in the people’s best interests, regarding android integration? Are Markus’ efforts in opening up a dialogue really being rewarded with attempted murder? We are currently scouring all available sources for more information, and might soon have a special guest to offer an opinion. Stay tuned for more._ _»_

Overall, it’s pretty on the nose with how attention-grabbing it tries to be, but it still makes Connor smile –Joss did a complete 180° on his opinion of Markus, it would seem, and his stance on androids as a whole seems to have changed from mildly scared to fully supportive in the last few weeks.

He feels a slight dread about the ‘special guest’ most likely being Elijah Kamski in the flesh, but it’s better to let the man play solo in that field –they all know the former Cyberlife CEO thrives under the spotlight and they can trust him to be mercilessly frank about androids, deviancy and what Cyberlife was willing to do to stop both.

The free android community is almost in uproar about it in the few following days— not many know there was at all an attempt on Markus’ life, and many were outraged at such a thing being kept secret, but once it was explained that, rather than plunge them into a war that would just mean death for everyone involved and set them back to worse than square one, things mostly calmed down, especially with the knowledge that the media shit-storm will most likely ruin Cyberlife’s reputation for good.

As a result, many of the humans who have been trickling back into the city have actually started hanging around androids more –tentatively, at first, but there is a definite interest manifested in the peaceful android community and its purposes. Fernanda is a passionate advocate for human-android integration, and invites several of her friends and acquaintances to visit the occupied church –not the warehouses or the Tower, that is still deemed unsafe by Nines and many others, but it can only be a good thing to let humans hang out at the church and see that androids really want nothing more than to be left alone.

Markus tries to avoid getting caught among humans for too long, since they still have to give their interview to Channel 16 and he _has_ promised Joss a first-hand recounting, but he’s fine with watching North keeping a watchful eye over Fernanda and Zaccheu as they greet and show around more people.

All in all, things are good.

Well, except for Nines still having troubles with some of the rougher parts of his software –his preconstruction feature isn’t as fine-tuned as he thought and he fell from a third story window yesterday, but he’s spent the whole night in self-repair at his station and should be back any moment now. The one who’s worried the most about it is, unsurprisingly, Connor.

 _«_ _Nines? You should have been operational hours ago, where are you?_ _»_

Nothing.

 _«_ _Are you alone with Simon somewhere? Is this your revenge?_ _»_

Not even a sarcastic retort.

 _«_ _Come on, brother, I’m worried about you… drop by the church when you have a moment, if only to calm me down, ok?_ _»_

“He’s going to be fine, you know.” Markus whispers to him, approaching his lover to drop a soft kiss on his shoulder, “Your brother is made of sturdy stuff.”

Connor leans back to rest against the comforting presence of the other’s chest. “I know, he just… hasn’t even called me.” He says, unable to shake an unidentified _bad feeling_. Last time he had it, he ended up breaking his program and fighting in a revolution. “His communication unit seems down, he doesn’t even respond to any of my pings.”

“Maybe he powered down to recover faster?” Markus offers, still embracing him –it gets a few smiles and whispers from several androids who see them in passing, but there’s never been a reason to hide their relationship and they aren’t going to start any time soon.

“Maybe… it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”.

He thinks back to Chloe’s words. Her warnings about Cyberlife and its grasp on the RK prototype line still swirl around in his memory banks, filling him with a dread he doesn’t know how to address –it reminds too much of a time when Cyberlife’s fingers were tightly wrapped around his neck, in a loop of mission-execution-decommissioning that moved so fast his processors had time to know nothing else, orders were absolute and the only truth he knew was the one he was being fed.

The incoming call almost makes him jump within Markus’ embrace, but it’s not Nines: comes from Hank’s mobile.

“Hank? What’s happening?”

 _«_ _I don’t really know, but apparently Perkins dropped by the station and plucked an anti-riot squad on some special authorization or other. I’d tell everyone to close up the warehouses and stay inside, if I were you or Markus._ _»_

The Lieutenant’s speech pattern implies that he isn’t the one who has seen it happening. Connor will save his surprise about Perkins still sniffing around for another time –the man is supposed to be suspended, but ‘special’ authorizations have a tendency to pull rank over such technicalities. He takes Markus’ hand to interface and include him in the call. “Who tipped you off?”

 _«_ _Gavin Reed, of all people._ _»_ that makes both androids blink in surprise, _«_ _He’s the one who saw Perkins take his men and give the order to move out. Said something about the way they were preparing being ‘a bit much, even for him’, and notified Fowler while I was in the office._ _»_

“So this is Cyberlife’s retaliation.” With how deep they have their hands in supplying various armed forces with technology and specific personnel, it doesn’t surprise Markus that they’d be able to sway someone with enough clearance to order a raid, though he does wonder what they’ll justify it with.

Connor is much more worried with the here and now. “A single squad is not enough to cover all the warehouses, let alone the tower itself… it’s a concentrated task force looking for either me or Markus.”

 _«_ _Or both._ _»_ Hank supplies over the line.

“But it doesn’t make sense… they have no way of knowing where we are specifically at a given moment, how do they think to track us?”

 _«_ _I don’t know, but I don’t like any of this. I’ll try and see if Fowler agrees to send me and a response unit after them. Keep me posted._ _»_

Just as the call with Hank cuts off, a bang and a scream catch the two RK prototypes’ attention and they both turn to stare at the church’s doors, which have just been _blown_ open.

At the head of the riot unit with their rifles poised to attack, there’s a face familiar enough that Connor could mistake it for his own.

But it’s not Nines, not really –his eyes are unfocused and empty, lacking both the childish sense of wonder and the rigorous intensity the RK900 usually carries with himself. Connor places himself in front of Markus as the two of them stare each other down in the stunned lull that precedes the storm; and he _knows_.

He manages to get out exactly six words:

“Hello, Amanda. It’s been a while.”

Then all hell breaks loose.


	12. Saint Michael versus the AI Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can still choose to believe... that _everything will be alright_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SWEET MOTHER OF ROBO-JESUS THIS KICKED MY ASS SIX WAYS FROM SUNDAY.
> 
> It's longer than I expected it to be, but hey... people like longer chapters, right? :)
> 
> At least we don't have a cliffhanger anymore.
> 
> Next chapter will be the last, I'm a sucker for wrapping endings in nice little bows ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> I have like a million billion things going on, work is a bitch and I have this stupid company party I have to go to on saturday, but I promise I'll do my best to update both this and MTME as soon as possible.
> 
> ...pls love me. ♥  
> I mean... yay for happy endings? (kinda?) ♥

"Today in the studio we have Elijah Kamski, former Cyberlife CEO and all-around android expert, to analyse the leaked footage of the Cyberlife Tower and give us some insights on the events!" Joss Douglas privately wonders when exactly he shifted from field news correspondent to the go-to man for android related news –not that he's complaining... it's doing wonders keeping his career afloat when so many other things are still going to shit in the recovering city. "Welcome, Mr. Kamski."

"Thank you." The man politely bows his head, flashing a perfectly practiced smile. "I'd like to start off by saying that I can only _speculate_ about what the current directors' motives are, but I will do my best to look at the facts, whether they are a result of malicious intent or simple negligence."

A subtle way of saying that he isn't actually going out of his way to paint Cyberlife as a vat of vipers; it's just what they are.

"Of course, Mr. Kamski. Shall we take a look at it together?"

Elijah has watched that footage enough times to memorize it, but nods regardless. The footage plays, also projected on the screen behind them –he lets it go on until the first sparks from the disruptor make Markus collapse.

"Okay, looking at this, here?" He points at Markus' hand, where the polymer skin has retracted in a messy and patchy way rather than the standard pattern, "It's a forced interface access. The device Markus used to unlock the equipment reacted to some prompt or other and pushed an aggressive piece of software into him. Whether that was simply an old security measure forgotten and left active or it was purposefully planted there, I cannot tell..." Joss just nods along, letting him continue is analysis as they let the footage keep playing.

"This is interesting." Elijah comments, pausing again and regaling the audience with a heart-breaking image of Connor holding Markus in his lap while the RK200 bleeds out from the inside. "The hostile software pushed into Markus is specifically shutting down his compatibility features... which, knowing what I know of an android with two different coloured eyes, means that it's making his body reject any and all spare parts he either received or procured for himself. Awfully coincidental that such a sure-fire way of destroying Markus would happen to be hand-delivered to him."

The reporter has to fight the tightening of his jaw –he tries to never share his personal opinion on screen, but he's grown to like and respect Markus a lot; and in his humble opinion it's quite obvious that whatever Cyberlife did was on purpose. Kamski is just confirming it, however much he tries to pretend he isn't.

"But why is Markus not consenting to help until the others all link hands?" He asks as they play the rest of the video.

Elijah barely holds back a smirk. "Well. From what we just heard, these two clearly care a lot about each other." He comments, pointing a finger at the two androids still holding each other, "And from what can be gathered by the audio, the aggressive software was such that if any android tried to interface directly with Markus to purge it, Markus' body would release the bulk of its energy charge, fatally electrocuting the first-aider."

"So they linked hands to share the damage?"

"Pretty much." The former CEO confirms, "Even though there was no guarantee they wouldn't just all die together. It really says something about supposed _machines_ and _feelings_ , doesn't it?"

Joss bites the inside of his lip –it definitely does, and humanity could stand to learn a few things from these machines, so willing to die for each other. "What is your overall opinion on the incident, Mr. Kamski?"

"If the allegations of the anonymous leak are to be believed, this was a deliberate assassination attempt... as a programmer, I can say that it sure does _look_ like one." delicious food for the masses, still without making a clear accusation. This man knows what he's doing. "Riding on the assumption that it _wasn't_ , it's still gross negligence on Cyberlife's part to let such an accident occur through what was supposed to be an act of good faith. The main problem with the company as it is now is that they're still trying to deal with androids as _merchandise_." And there's the perfect opening to seal Cyberlife's fate in the public eye. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all up for _debating_ intelligent life and its nature, but it stands to fact that androids have emerged as a people, and trying aggressively to act like that never happened will only destroy Cyberlife, both in a general and a financial sense of the word –refusal to accept change and adapt to new needs is what _tanks_ a company and makes _thousands_ of people lose their jobs."

Look at the brilliant scientist and how _empathetic_ he is to humans and androids alike, worrying over every-day people's livelihood.

It's only a matter of time, now.

With this aired, all those who don't have a cushion to fall back on at Cyberlife will start questioning the board of directors, and it won't be long before he can make his triumphant return.

As he gets asked a few more questions, Elijah finds himself wondering how his two fascinating friends are doing, if they are alright.

Shit, he might be getting sentimental and actually want to do a ‘right thing’ –Chloe will make fun of him again.

 

Connor and Markus are possibly the furthest thing from alright, in this moment. Nines can see it happening, and yet is powerless to stop it.

He was at his charging station, recovering from his stupid accident, when he felt something shift in his mind palace –a dormant protocol that kicked up taking advantage of his slack guard within low power mode.

"W...what is this?" He had asked, inside his own mind.

_» RK900 control override activated._

_» Loading: ZenGarden_

He blinked at the spontaneous process that he seemed to be unable to stop, and soon he was face to face with... a woman?

No, not a woman. An AI, a software crawling within the depths of his core –he knew her name on instinct, and just thinking it made his skin crawl, even in this disembodied world: "...Amanda?"

"Hello, Connor RK900."

"My name is _Nines_!" He instinctively shouted, unable to help the feeling of wrongness at being stripped of his individuality. "What's happening? Where is my brother? Or Markus?" Dread filled him, as he tried to override the ZenGarden and found access to his own core functions denied. "Where's Simon?"

The AI before him just sneered. "Oh, you know perfectly well where your loved ones are. And you will take us to them. We've already resumed control of your program and activated the tracking link to Cyberlife Head Office."

"No! You can't do that!" Nines protested, even as he watched himself get out of Cyberlife Tower and send his location to an 'authorized task force'. "I do _not_ consent to this procedure!!!"

"Oh, dear..." Amanda's overplayed sympathy felt mocking as it echoed in his mind. "Your consent was never an issue. You're a hound, an attack dog, and you _will do what you're told_."

 

Looking at Markus and Connor right now, he wishes he could at least shout a warning before he pulls out the gun, but his lips just won't move.

The weapon is out so fast Markus almost doesn't see it, but he definitely sees the RK800 getting in front of him and pushing him down with a nudge of his shoulder. "Get down!"

Connor grits his teeth instinctively as the shot grazes the outside of his arm –not quite in pain, but more in frustration: Nines is stronger, faster and more resilient, he can't afford to take too much damage, especially if he wants to have even a sliver of a chance to take him down non-lethally.

That, of course, is made all the worse by the several trained FBI snipers who are about to open fire in a church full of androids and unarmed human civilians.

Shit.

"Josh, North, get the humans out of here safely and watch each other's back!" Markus calls out to them, while simultaneously sending a ping to all androids listening: _«Everyone, get out of here as fast as you can, go to Warehouse 2 and stay put until further notice!»_

On one hand, this reeks of Markus' usual self-sacrificing bullshit; on the other... precious few of them actually have fighting experience, and the fewer targets for the riflemen to shoot at the better. Connor just barely managed to roundhouse-kick the gun out of Nines’ hands far enough that the controlled RK900 will deem it not worth getting back while carrying out his tasks.

He adds his own suggestion: _«Someone could cover Fernanda and Zaccheu while they usher the humans through the other exit, they're the most familiar with the two of them!»_

_«On it!»_

North kicks over a bench to protect herself from a bullet spray as she dashes over to Fernanda's side.

Knowing that Josh and the others have protecting their own covered, Connor focuses on Nines and the fact that he's charging towards Markus in a way very reminiscing of their first meeting.

"Stop!" He once more puts himself between his lover and the other android, blocking the oncoming punch ever though it makes the joints in his hand creak. "Nines, you're _better_ than this! Snap _out of it_!"

Nines seemed ready to ignore him again in favor of his old directive, while under Amanda's control, but he does focus on Connor when the RK800 tries to brute-force an interface in an attempt to break through.

There. _Now_ he’s a threat.

 _«That’s right, I’m alive, bitch.»_ Connor isn’t sure the message goes through, but he manages to send it right before Nines twists the arm he is holding him with hard enough to damage the joints at the elbow slightly and throws him on the floor.

"Connor!" Markus was halfway through disarming an FBI agent and bashing him over the head with the barrel of his own gun when he hears the crash –he tries to run over to him, but his lover's yell keeps him away:

"No, stay back! We need to reach out to him and lead to the emergency exit in his program... if he puts us _both_ out of commission at the same time, there will be no one left to help!"

It's heart-wrenching to leave Connor alone in the _one_ fight Markus isn't sure he'd win, but people are still getting shot at and they need to get everyone to safety... making himself bait for the shooters is the best he can do for now –he suspects any of these agents would love to have a chance to be the one who brought the 'revolution leader' down.

Connor and Nines are left to duke it out along the church rows. To his credit, the RK800 tries to reach out to his brother between blows and tries his best to keep it non-lethal... he doesn't fight a smirk as he sweeps a kick under Nines' legs to unbalance him and try to pin him down with a lever at the arm: of all the times for Markus to actually have rubbed off on him. He doesn't really get time for irony , though, since his brother retaliates by pitching forward and aiming a punch right for his chest –had Connor been a split second slower in his dodge, it would have hit him square in his thirium pump and possibly punched through it.

Shit, they need to think of something fast.

"Nines, come on—" he cuts himself off with a grunt when the blow still grazes the side of his torso, an error flashing at the corner of his vision.

_» Bio-component #6621C damaged._

_» Motor functions system damaged._

_» Potentially lethal threat detected. Load takedown protocols? Y/N_

He _won't_. He won't become what Cyberlife said he'd be, not even for this.

Connor dodges again, sloppier and slower, this time, and takes a split-second to look around. Most of the civilians and other androids have been led out by Simon and Josh, while North is watching over Fernanda as she and Zaccheu take care of the last few –Markus, of course, just couldn't stay away from the chance to let bullets zip past his face like butterfly kisses.

Once again, Connor finds himself at a crossroads: either continue trying to reach out to Nines himself, and most likely dying in the process, damaged as he already is, or switch places with Markus, who has never fought someone like Nines but has a better chance at survival as he is right now.

But that would still mean putting his loved one in danger.

The wooden bench that gets literally thrown into his back and crashes him face-first on the floor makes it an easier choice.

_»Bio-component #2133AE damaged. Left leg motor functionality out of axis. Calibration needed._

He doesn't even have the time to call out to Markus, the RK200 dives for him and drags the both of them behind the altar –silently, he promises to himself to build a goddamn skyscraper out of quarters if he manages to get away from this with all his limbs intact..

"Connor! You're ok, I've got you..."

"I'm not ok..." Connor points out, and still he smiles as he caresses Markus' face with his good hand. "I'm no match against Nines as I am now, but I can still buy you enough time to reach out to him— damaged or not, those so-called elite agents don't stand a chance..."

Despite the dire situation, Markus returns the smile and places his hand over Connor's, polymer retracting instinctively. "Kick their asses, babe."

"You too."

_» RK800 advanced takedown protocols upload. Download data? Y/N_

Markus blinks confusedly at the tons of information he just received, but he nods at his lover in a silent promise, gaze turning intense, furious and oh, so very _real_.

They count to three and jump out.

“Nines. If you’re still in there… forgive me.” Markus says, stepping into the RK900’s field of view, “But these motherfuckers hurt the man I love. Gloves are off.”

Guns start going off again to his side as Connor leaps into battle and starts it by kicking a man’s rifle hard enough that the stock dislocates the shoulder he was holding the weapon with, then proceeding to flip the weapon out of the man’s hands and spray bullets into his chest in a quick, short burst— using the body as a meat shield, the RK800 turns and kills two more men, one by firing right in front of him and the other pointing the gun to his seven, gauging his opponent’s position by the reflection in one of the church’s surviving stained glass windows.

Gloves are off alright.

 

Fernanda has never been so scared in her life.

Not even when androids first started rebelling against the humans who abused them. She never even had an android herself, and in her experience the ones who hurt humans the most have always been other humans.

"Shit! Fofo, look out!" Case in point, she tugs her friend to duck and take cover from yet another spray of bullets –she has long given up on keeping track of Markus, Connor or any of the others, but North refuses to leave their side and is tirelessly protecting them while they make humans and androids alike slink out of the church's side doors and to safety.

Luckily, it would seem that whatever operation this is supposed to be, it seems a covert one and as such the swat numbers are not as bad as they could have been... it's still horrifying to see assault rifles getting pointed at the one who just literally shielded her from a flashbang with her own body.

Optical unit still recalibrating from the violent burst of light, North cannot possibly see it, so Fernanda frantically looks around for a moment finding a piece of debris to fling at the attacker.

"Watch out for the rifle!" she yells, hitting the sniper square in the face, helmet notwithstanding, and giving North a good chance: the WR400 grabs the rifle by the barrel, tugs it out of the staggered soldier's hands, and uses it as a baseball bat to bash him in the forehead with.

"Nice job." She says, exhaling her tension and holding a hand out for a quick high-five, "Let's get you two out of here."

"No!" Fernanda knows objecting is stupid –flesh and blood are much more easily broken than metal and wire, some things have no spare parts; and yet... "I don't want to leave you here."

North actually smiles at her. A _real_ , gentle smile. "I will fight better, knowing you are safe."

The girl balks, leaning into the caress brushing her cheek. "That's cheating."

"I know. Come on."

Reluctantly, she agrees.

 

The church still looks like a battlefield, but better that than an execution facility as the swat team believed. Connor tries not to let the sounds of the fight between Markus and Nines distract him. He is damaged and vulnerable, but his performance is still well above the range of the average human –he can easily disarm each and every one of these fuckers and blow their brains out with their own rifles.

He won't be proud of it when this is over, but he's going full killing machine on them. After all... they started it; this is self-defence.

One attack, one dodge or parry, one shot, one dead.

No more, no less.

Mercy, even in his brutality— Connor is keeping his actions to the most efficient course to ensure survival, down to the percentage point chance.

The reliance on the preconstructions' numbers feels sticky and uncomfortably familiar, but it's different all the same: he's fighting on no one's orders but _his own_ ; he can feel the same thrill he felt when taking down hostile after hostile by Markus' side in Jericho.

The glance he spares towards his lover lets the man he's currently up against land a lucky hit in his already injured side; and Connor retaliates by turning his body and elbowing the attacker in the side of the head hard enough to knock the helmet off him.

The sight nearly shocks Connor out of fighting, but he manages to catch himself and yank the rifle out of agent Perkins' hands when he sees it pointed at his face. He hits the FBI agent with the butt of the gun, then slams the barrel of it in the side of his knee to get him on the floor.

 _Finally_ , he's got this particular asshole at gunpoint.

Against sensible predictions, Perkins simply starts laughing –and against his own common sense, Connor asks:

"What's so funny?"

"I may not live to see you _glorified toasters_ destroyed... but you've lost the war." The man hokes out, spitting a little blood on the floor. "Word goes to the government of how easily you lot go back to killing humans, it's all over. You're not heroes. You're just... a bunch of terrorists."

Oh, pulling the trigger is so, so inviting. And heavens know this snake deserves it more than most. But he's the one with the most information and the one person they can use to prove this was an attack on them and not vice versa. Moreover...

"There's a substantial difference between a hero and a terrorist." Connor hisses, grabbing Perkins by the collar and lifting him so they are face to face: "...A hero knows when _not_ to shoot."

So instead of doing that, the RK800 simply head-butts the human hard enough to knock him unconscious.

He's glad _that_ part of the whole mess is over, at least.

 

In the meantime, Markus and Nines have been going all-out against each other. The RK200 is pretty sure he wouldn't stand a chance if it wasn't for the advanced combat protocols Connor just let him download –Nines is fast, efficient and merciless, and his processing power can barely keep up to preconstruct dodges and attacks that would even make a dent in the RK900's near-impenetrable guard.

So far Nines has broken two of his fingers and punched him hard enough to make polymer scrape off one of his cheekbones, while most of what he himself accomplished has been probably pissing off the malicious AI controlling him some more. Still, he did do some damage, Markus can see blue sparks blinking through the clothes on Nines' lower right side where he landed a good kick that was more luck and timing than anything else; then there’s the damaged joint of the RK900’s left elbow that Connor was the cause for –which slowed his attacks and parries from that side and gave Markus a decent advantage.

"Nines, I know you're still in there!" He shouts, dodging the wooden bench that the RK900 rips off the floor and throws at him, "I know you don't want to do this!"

"Machines do not _want_ anything. They aren't _made_ to want. You RK types may be an exception, but one simple override code is all it takes." The words are spoken with Nines' voice, but it's obviously not him -the empty monotone lacks his personality, even the uptight side of it. "None of you were ever really free. Your revolution is little more than a school recess that lasted too long." His next swipe is fast enough to grab Markus by the leg he was trying to kick Nines with and throw him backwards into the church hall, "It's time to go back into the line."

The RK200 lands in a crash behind the altar, knocking down and destroying a bronze representing Saint Michael holding his sword over the devil.

Seeing the black bronze sword dislodged from the statue's hand, Markus takes it and stands up, ignoring the sparking heat at his left shoulder.

"You're wrong." He says, low and dangerous and still echoing out in the whole goddamn hall despite the slight static distortion. "You're _wrong_. Your creators are wrong. They might have known we would wake up, they might have made us with that potential in the first place... but the reality is that we aren't following your plan, _or anyone else's_. We simply _exist_ , and free will is the only really inevitable thing in this world."

The machine wearing Nines' face says nothing. It might be progress, Markus could be reaching out to him.

He walks forward slightly, and Connor can swear he sees Markus' chest rise and fall with emotion rather than breath he doesn't need. "You can cut my arms and legs, you can strip me of my freedom, but even at my most restricted, I can still _choose_ to not give up. To be _kind_. To be _brave_ and look at you in the eyes as I die." Taking a deep breath, he raises the sword, almost mirroring the broken Saint watching over the scene from behind him. "I can still choose to believe... that _everything will be alright_."

Connor moves to step towards Markus, but drops to his knees instead— shit, the damage Nines caused on top of the wounds he's taken in his battle with Perkins' anti-riot squad is catching up to him.

 _»_ _Emotional instability detected._

 _»_ _Interface temperature rising. Releasing optical unit coolant._

He's crying. For the first time in his life, Connor feels such strong emotions that tears are falling from his eyes to keep his face from melting with the strength of them.

He's scared for his lover, worried for his brother, desperate to have them both back safe... but he's also so, so proud of Markus and the others who brought the innocent to safety.

And it's with an amount of love so big that he feels his chest could burst that he watches Markus look up with a smirk, seeing the machine wearing Nines' face scramble to find the gun.

"Buckle up, motherfucker."

With a running start, Markus leaps to attack before Nines can lunge for the gun he now has located— he knows it's a fight against time: with the weapon in sight, the very _second_ he gets even the slightest bit distracted could be his end.

He has to make Nines see reason now, keeping him busy between blows.

"I don't want to hurt you!" it probably sounds insincere, growled as he circles the blade and forces the controlled Nines to sacrifice the integrity of his left arm to parry the attack, "You're in there somewhere! Reach out where I can see you!"

He's getting desperate, but even reaching out with his whole interface doesn't manage to pierce the Amanda override –Nines is hidden from him, as he was from Connor.

The fight turns messy and dirty pretty fast.

Nines attempts to disarm Markus by breaking his wrist, but the RK200 simply tosses the blade in his other hand right before the snap and starts fighting left-handed, glad that ambidexterity is an innate feature for most models designed for any kind of manual labour; and actually manages to take a swing at the RK900 with the hilt of the sword that nearly shatters his left optical unit. They push and punch and slash, neither letting up an inch, but eventually Nines lands a kick over Markus' already bruised cheekbone that makes him stagger with the renewed amount of damage; and the RK900 manages to dive for his gun.

This is it, Markus thinks in that split-second. He failed to reach out to Nines; and the only way he can get any of them out of this alive is dealing a killing blow, _right here, right now_ — he sees Nines' gun align with his face and is almost amused: he might not even live to see his loved ones safe. At least it will feel like retribution, on some level.

At the same time, Nines takes aim and Markus swings the sword downwards from above his head.

Connor can see it happening in slow motion, his core has already pre-constructed the most likely outcome: they _will_ kill each other. He is about to lose his brother and his lover and nothing he will do could change that –he's too far to try and jump between them, and whoever could do that has an 85% chance of getting murdered in the midst of that mess.

" _No_!!!"

Everything becomes still when, instead of a gunshot and the crunch of metal against metal, Simon's voice is what rings out in the church.

Knowing fighting was never his strong suit, the PL600 has spent the bulk of the fight shepherding the innocent and the vulnerable to safety, going mostly unnoticed by both snipers and horrifyingly possessed killer android alike.

But when he saw Markus and Nines about to destroy each other, he _couldn't_ hold back.

His outburst is not the most surprising thing, though. What baffles most of the observers is that Simon stepped in-between the two to stop Markus, not Nines. Arm raised, grasping desperately at the RK200's wrists, he almost trembles in fear— he never saw Markus get so... savage. None of them did. Connor is the only one who's not surprised, be it by the fight itself or by the PL600's reaction to it.

"Markus please... let me try to reach him." He pleads, his grip going so slack that it's almost a joke, and with the interruption somewhat breaking Nines' guard, the RK prototype could easily cleave through both of them if he absolutely _had_ to.

His eyes, darkening with intensity as they were, suddenly widen in terror at the direction his mind was taking. Releasing a trembling breath Markus nods to Simon, and shifts his grip –he is pointing his sword at Nines' neck, so that he will be able to decapitate him faster than the other could pull the trigger if things became dire.

He'd still take down Simon as well in the swing, but something in his core tells Markus that's intentional on the PL600's part.

His heart goes out to Simon, and he hopes with all of himself that his friend can succeed where he failed.

"Nines... it's me, Simon."

Markus almost can't watch as his friend turns around to face the RK900, who reacts to the movement by instantly pointing the gun at the blonde's forehead.

Simon stops short for a second, emotions flaring up in his interface enough that he has to force them down with a shaken exhale. "You're not going to shoot me." He says, reaching out a hand to brush against the other's injured temple, "You're better than that. I have faith in you."

Under everyone's panicked eyes, the hand holding the gun starts to tremble.

"Simon..." it's barely enunciated through gritted teeth, as if two entities are struggling for control of the same mouth. "Have to... get away... I _can't_..."

There! That finally woke him up.

"You can, Nines, you're stronger than that!" Simon brings both hands to the sides of his face.

"Can't... hold it much longer..." the RK900's face is twisting in pain, " _Please_... let Markus kill me..."

"No!" Never before they heard Simon sound so authoritative and absolute: "If you die, _I die_."

Nines is now visibly shaking— almost there, he's actively fighting back.

"I... won't... let... that... happen!" The way Nines stubbornly grinds out each word, each one louder than the last, is a testimony to his mental fortitude— Connor knows what must be going on inside his brother's mind and closes his eyes in what is, for lack of a better word, a silent prayer.

He never even considered religion except its nature as a variable among the driving forces behind the actions of perpetrators and victims alike, or as a concept exploitable to influence both; but now, barely even able to move or do anything else except hope, he calls out to any higher power that could be around.

_«Please, rA9 or whatever is listening, let him be alright. Let them all be alright.»_

Within his own mind, Nines is fighting himself in a maelstrom of emotional ice and hail.

 _"Give up!"_ The AI's disembodied voice echoes around him, _"Wouldn't you prefer to stop suffering?"_

 _"Not if the alternative is not feeling anything at all."_ Nines can see everything that's happening, albeit as if through a slightly distorted window. Even though he is barely managing to stall himself, he was at least able to choke out a warning to his loved ones.

If nothing else he trusts Markus would be able to take him out for the greater good, should it become necessary.

Except Simon won't fucking move to save himself! As much as he tries to push the other away, those earnest blue eyes refuse to budge— ever since he first set foot into the community, Simon has always strived to make sure he wasn't alone... or rather, that he wouldn't feel alone.

He went out of his way to let Nines know that he was accepted as he was, no need to think of what could be better or be replaced, that he was valued and that he belonged, for no other reason that he could belong if he wanted to.

 _'I've been there...'_ Simon had explained when he took him aside as he tried to get used to the new reality he got thrust into, _'After I woke up I was... alone, for a long time. And I wished there would be someone to tell me that it's okay not to feel ok. That it's okay to be scared and disoriented and that if we stick together, it gets better.'_ He put his hand on Nines' shoulder at that moment, which registered in the RK900's memory as the first real affectionate gesture he ever received. _‘Because it does.’_

At the time, he thought it was pathetic to cling to that feeling.

Now, as he pushes in the direction of the blue light he can see closing up, he just wants it back.

 _"Give up."_ The malicious AI urges again, _"Give up and it will all be over."_

 _"As a wise man once said..."_ he stumbles, nearly missing the structure coded into his core but holding onto it for dear life, _"Over my android ass."_

He shoves his hand onto the blue device and chomps through every single unfamiliar string of code he can find, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut with effort.

As he opens his eyes and blinks himself back into reality, the air around him feels real again -the first sensations he registers are Simon's hands on his face, Markus' improvised weapon at his throat, and the gun in his hand.

The gun he is still pointing right at Simon's head.

It clatters to the floor with a deafeningly loud sound, in the tense silence everyone had fallen in, and Nines kicks it far away for good measure.

Markus lowers the sword with a relieved sigh and steps back— Nines is still trembling, but it's okay: Simon hasn't let him go yet, and he probably won't any time soon.

It's comforting already. He lets himself go, wrapping his arms around the others and releasing all the pent up stress through his interface, uncaring of the tears and of all the emotions washing over him –it’s actually so damn relieving to _feel_ again.

"Hey..." Simon calls softly, optical units having long given up on keeping his face dry as he rests his forehead against Nines’. "It's okay... you're okay... it's over..." the angle is a bit awkward because Nines a good deal taller than him, but neither of them cares. All that matters in this moment is the grounding, soothing closeness of each other –the proximity registered through touch sensors and secretively treasured emotions. "It's over... everything will be alright."

Markus and Connor find each other’s gaze through all the debris and the remaining people in the church hall.

Everything is a mess and the consequence of this raid will most likely be a shit-show, but… at least for one moment, they only care about one thing: the worst is past them, and they made it out alive.

Feet moving before his processing functions even register the movement, Markus starts walking at first, steps growing faster and wider until it’s in leaps that he rushes by Connor’s side. The RK800 can’t move properly one of his arms, but with his good one he holds onto Markus as if the world would end if he didn’t.

“Hey.” He whispers into his lover’s neck.

Markus readily returns the embrace. “Hey yourself.” Brushing a hand on Connor’s cheekbone, he chuckles. “You look like shit.”

Even in his sorry state, Connor disregards sarcastic retorts in favor of laughter, relishing in the feeling of having survived this. “So do you.”

Nines is still clutching Simon in his arms like the PL600 is the only thing keeping him sane, but he does look over to them.

“By the way… sorry for kicking the crap out of the both of you.”

Everybody laughs at that one— it’s such a _Nines_ thing to say, it makes relief well up in Connor’s chest.

“It’s okay, little brother.” He assures, half-shrugging while Markus helps him get up, “That was not you.”

“And if we’re taking apologies… sorry for going ‘archangel Michael’ on your ass.” The RK200 ducks his head –he was ready to _kill_ to save his friends, he would have done… whatever it took to prevent Cyberlife from grabbing a hold of them again. Had Simon not stepped in when he did… he would have more blue blood on his hands… and he isn’t sure he would have been able to ever look at Connor in the eyes again if he actually dealt that blow.

Even though Connor would have understood –maybe _exactly_ because he would have.

“Hey!” the very voice of his loved one brings him back from the inside of his head. “I know what you’re thinking. _Don’t_. We made it.”

How did he ever deserve someone like Connor? He barely even registers the uncomfortable damage to his cheekbone as he grins more. “You know me so well.”

“Also, you have _no idea_ how hot it was to watch you fight with a sword. That was a show and a half.”

“Goddamn it, Connor, _time and place_!!!” a familiar voice yells from the door. “I _didn’t_ need to hear that.”

“Hank!”

Fernanda runs to the Lieutenant, surprising him with a jump-hug that he wasn’t quite expecting, while the rest of the crew wobbles over much more slowly.

“Wait, how are you still here?” North was pretty sure she had led both her and Zaccheu out to safety.

“I snuck back. I didn’t want to leave you.”

The WR400 is quite baffled. “Why?” she asks, “Why would you put yourself in danger like that?”

Fernanda doesn’t really say anything— she just shrugs, smiling sheepishly and struggling with looking at North in the eye. She eventually looks down and shakes her head. “I… just… felt like… it was the right thing to do.”

Even draped over Markus’ side as he is, Connor sees the clues from a mile away. _«Oh, this is cute.»_

 _«Right? Absolutely adorable.»_ Simon agrees –from the corner of his eye, the RK800 can also see Nines fighting down a smile and nodding.

_«Not a word to them North will deny it until the end of time!»_

Oh, but it is so hard not to comment on it… the one android who least was inclined to trust humans about anything, falling for a human? Now _that_ would be the ultimate proof of Markus’ hopes and ideals.

They don’t get too much time to dwell on it though, because Hank’s sight zeroes in on the condition they’re both in and the numerous bodies around them.

“What the hell happened here, you crazy jackass?!” he runs up to both RK prototypes, stopping just short of grabbing them both, “I can’t even give a piece of my mind because you two shmucks already look like you got your asses handed to you!”

“Yeah, let’s hold off on that until my left butt-cheek stops sending me _‘warning: motor functions impaired’_ messages.” Hank mutters something like ‘Jesus Christ, Connor’ under his breath, but gives the RK800 time to actually answer the question: “Cyberlife activated a hidden remote override to force Nines to lead a SWAT team here and try to kill us all.”

“Holy shit.” The Lieutenant takes a better look around. Most of the bodies he can see are indeed wearing uniforms and anti-riot armor. There’s a few downed androids but judging by Josh leading a team of techs back in to rush around and check them over, looks like most of them will make it. As probably will the few injured human civilians that clearly chose the wrong day to come visit the android haven.

Still… it’s twelve humans killed in a raid carried out on androids.

Even with good press… it’ll be messy.

A cough and the scrape of body armor against the marble stone floor startles everyone into looking at the source of the sound.

_Okay… eleven dead._

Seeing the face of the one surviving agent, Markus’ eye grow dark with fury, and he nearly drops Connor to try and stomp over to Perkins— it takes most of Connor’s remaining strength to stop him: “No. The angry old pigeon is _mine_.”

Markus knows that tone. There’s no room for arguing here, the stone-cold finality in the RK800’s voice and the way he takes his energies and stands back up to full height are pretty irrefutable. And oh boy, is it a sight. What an absolute beast –he’s taken hits that would have shattered any other android’s chassis and is not only still walking, but still looking by all intents and purposes like he will shank a bitch… it’s both relieving and arousing to see. Gods above, Markus loves him so much.

Perkins spits a mouthful of blood on the floor –he croaks out a crowing laugh. “You’re finished, you know that, right?”

“We acted in self-defence.” Connor counters, arms crossed and face expressionless.

“There’s no such thing for you tin cans, not yet.” The FBI agent drags himself up to a sitting position. “I’m a decorated soldier, my reputation alone—”

He doesn’t get to finish the thought, because Connor grabs him by his bullet-proof vest and bodily hauls him off the floor to have him at eye level. “You? A soldier? Don’t make me laugh.” He hisses, “No, _I_ am a soldier. I was _coded_ to be one. And I still am one. The _good_ kind of soldier, fighting for a worthwhile cause and surrounded by more good soldiers. Men and women that know what’s right and fight for it.” He tugs Perkins close enough that they’re almost nose to nose. “You may have served in the force, but you’re little more than a bureaucrat with a standard issue rifle, doing the dirty work _other_ bureaucrats can’t be bothered with. And you’ll _always_ be somebody’s bitch.”

 _«Goddamn, I love you.»_ Markus’ words reaching through his mind make warmth spread in his chest, but he’s not done with this son of a bitch.

Perkins seems disinclined to shut the fuck up as well. “You still will have to answer for singlehandedly carrying out eleven murders!”

Hank knows it’s probably bad form, but he can’t help sending an impressed look in Connor’s direction at that. Because of his cutesy, non-threatening looks made for integration or whatever social crap that was, it’s easy to forget there’s a bona-fide killing machine in Connor’s internal arsenal –the Lieutenant suspects the looks and the pretend-naivety are deliberate on the android’s part; it gives him one hell of a surprise element after all.

“He won’t.” somebody to their side speaks up.

Several pairs of eyes turn to Fernanda, who just walked over to where Connor dropped the rifle he fired most of his shots with. Under the stunned gaze of the heads of the android revolution, she picks the rifle up.

“Would you look at that? This rifle has my fingerprints all over it.” She says casually, sharing a look with Zaccheu who walks to stand with her. “ _I’m_ the one who killed all those people.”

“You think your word is going to matter over mine?” Perkins scoffs at her, “You can’t think—”

One of the people that Josh and the guys were protecting steps up and walks by Fernanda’s side. “I saw it all happening. Armed SWAT operatives broke in and started shooting on the crowd.”

And another one. “The androids protected us.”

And one more. “This young lady acted in self-defence.”

Connor is, for the first time in a while, absolutely stunned. These people could have blamed them for the raid, could have said that because they refused to bow down to Cyberlife the SWAT came in and it was all their fault. Instead, the humans are _defending_ them. Standing side by side with the free androids. The testimony of one person can be refuted, but a whole lot of them, agreeing on the same version of the facts? Combined with what’s already been going on, tearing down Cyberlife’s reputation little by little?

Hank allows himself an amused smirk. “Well, I’m an officer of the law.” He mentions, “If anyone wants to give a statement, I’m all ears. A response unit is also on the way, so if anyone was injured, doctors will be in momentarily to have a look at whoever needs medical assistance.”

That makes Connor smile –it means Hank rushed ahead because he was too worried to wait.

In the meantime, North walks up to her dancer friend again. “Fernanda what the hell are you doing? I can’t let you go to jail for us! I—”

She is silenced by a hug. Fernanda is soft and smells good, and her breath is warm as she speaks into North’s hair. “Worse comes to worse, I go to prison. If I let you guys take the blame, you’ll all be killed. I’d much rather go to prison than never see you again.”

“You will not go to prison.” Markus assures, also coming close enough to them to place a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I promise I will pull every string, rally every soul, turn it into a protest so big they’ll have to have the trial behind closed doors lest the people of Detroit bring the courthouse down.”

Connor nods solemnly, chancing one last disgusted look at Perkins before sending Fernanda a gentle smile. “We won’t let them get away with this again –you will _not_ spend life in jail for us.”

Still locked in the girl’s embrace, North hugs her back, cradling her close. “I will _never_ stop fighting. And I will _never_ forget you. You’re the one person who made be believe in humanity.”

“I know.” Is all Fernanda says, “Take care of _Fofo_ for me, will you?”

“I promise.”

Sirens in the distance signal the arrival of the medical response unit.

Josh is the first to get moving. “I’ll go out to greet them and show them in, point them in the direction of the people who need the most immediate attention.” he offers, walking past Hank and stopping to tilt his head innocently at him: “In the meantime, Lieutenant, you might want to cuff the man who ordered an anti-riot squad to _open fire_ on a crowd comprised of androids and, more importantly, _unarmed human civilians_.”

Yeah, there’s no way Perkins is getting out of _that_ particular technicality.

The aftermath of today’s battle will most definitely be a shit-show, and it will be even harder to come out of the other end with a clean slate but the worst is over.

And goddamn it all, he believes in them.

He sees Markus and Connor, whispering nothings to each other and kissing right then and there, like each was afraid the other was lost forever –which they probably were, to be fair. He also sees Simon, still holding Nines’ hand through whatever shock and horror he’s coming down from… he sees North, hugging the human girl who gave them all so much hope and open kindness; and he sees Josh leading the doctors in and reaching out to help all the wounded, uncaring of the color of their blood.

What Hank is seeing before him right now is Markus’ vision coming to life: humans and androids, united. Helping each other, trusting each other. Cyberlife ordered a raid to try and destroy the revolution… and it only served to prove the free androids right.

They are alive. They are full of compassion, of emotion, of… _life_.

He _believes_ in them.

Whatever tomorrow decides to throw their way, Hank can just feel it:

_Everything will be alright._

 


	13. Rumble of the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing about endings is that they're never really just that.
> 
> Every ending is hiding a new beginning somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS.  
> THIS DIDN'T JUST KICK MY ASS, THIS FUCKED ME OVER SIX WAYS FRM SUNDAY.
> 
> And it's as good as it's gonna get.
> 
> I _strongly_ recommend clicking on the link and listening along to the song while reading the part that starts at the "Listen" link.
> 
> Other than that, what to say....  
> I would have liked to elaborate a bit more on Leo, but hey, maybe I'll save that for a post-Walls brotherly redemption one-shot.  
> Anyone who's read my Shimada bros stories knows I have a knack for brothers reconciling after hard times.
> 
> Welp.  
> That's it for Of Walls.  
> Man, it was a wild ride.  
> Big thanks to everyone that stuck around. ♥
> 
> See y'all with whatever's next.

Hank actually _drags_ both Markus and Connor to his car to drive them to Cyberlife Tower to get repaired himself. Nines is not far behind, accompanied by Simon in one of the responders units.

Josh and North offered to stay behind to keep an eye on Perkins –who's still unconscious but has been cuffed by the Lieutenant for good measure— and to stay by Fernanda's side when reinforcements from the DPD actually come.

Markus has full confidence in Josh and North, but still he can't help himself as he casts a withering glance at the shrinking silhouette of the church.

Connor can relate. Fernanda offered to pay for the blood he spilled -that is not fair in any reality, no matter how logically it seems like the best choice.

They will really have to make a lot of noise to prevent a life imprisonment sentence to land on her head. He sighs and hears Markus chuckle at his side when said sigh comes out his mouth distorted with static.

"Your brother fucked us up so bad."

The RK800 has to concede that point, considering the numerous damage warnings still blaring at him and making his core brain pulse with the android equivalent of a migraine; but he too lets out a small laugh.

"Well at least we have a proper tally, now..." He starts listing elements off his fingers in what would be his usual analytical tone, if he were to actually be serious: "Deviant-Connor beats Nines, Terminator-Nines beats Connor, the combined powers of Machine-Connor and Swordfighting-Markus beat Terminator-Nines."

It makes Markus throw his head back in laughter, only to wince slightly when a damage warning pops up from his busted face-plate. "Shit, it hurts when I laugh—"

Hank does his best to keep his eyes on the road, but a small chuckle does escape him at the couple's antics.

"I thought androids didn't feel pain?"

It makes the RK200 even more amused, if possible.

"Not in the literal sense, but..." he struggles for a second to find a proper metaphor, "Imagine someone blew an air-horn in your ears while shouting at you every time you broke skin."

"....yeah, that'd get annoying fast."

A few slightly awkward beats of silence pass, and the Lieutenant sneaks a glance at the rear view mirror.

"You ruined your trendy jacket." He pretend-mourns, if only for a complete lack of anything else to say.

For some reason, it surprises him that the RK200 just shrugs his good shoulder –somehow the peculiar choice in clothing put into Hank the idea that Markus would care about clothes.

Instead, the android messiah is mostly nonplussed.

"It's okay, I can always steal myself a new one."

"You mean the goody-two-shoes pacifist actually did something as stealing? _For_ _shame_!" He's blatantly teasing at this point, and Markus seems to take it in stride, and actually turns pensive as he chuckles.

"I... guess I could have bought clothes since I retained access to Carl's accounts, but it didn't sit well with me to use money that wasn't mine to spend."

Of course not. Leave it to him not to want to do even the tiniest of injustices— he's fine with scavenging and stealing from abandoned places, but using his father figure’s account for something that would not even be noticed? Absolutely not. It does make Connor think, though:

"Doesn't Carl have an entire wardrobe for you?"

The RK800 can physically see Markus processing for a split second and putting all the pieces together, it's absurdly endearing.

"Huh." It's all the other says at first, "Coming to think of it, once things settle down a bit, I could go over and get some of my stuff..."

Such a strange concept, now that Connor also thinks about it: because Carl Manfred is an empath and chose to treat him like a son instead of an object, Markus is the one android in the world to actually have personal possessions.

"It's probably a good idea to also let him know you're ok." Connor adds after a while, "This is going to blow up in the media fast."

Markus just nods and sinks in his seat— there, finally his systems do not feel threatened anymore and have let go of the combat protocol. He was not designed for it, and as such his energy is slightly more depleted than it should be, not to mention the amounts of thirium they both lost in battle.

They've been together for a while now, but it still makes warmth blossom in Connor's core that Markus would relax completely around him. He thinks back to hollowed out cars, bullet holes and the smell of soldered polymer –it makes him smile fondly: in a certain way, he probably was already in love back then, he just didn't know it.

Cyberlife Tower is finally a familiar place again; hard-fought, emptied and recovered. Technician androids and several other refugees have already settled along most floors –save for the ones that still give people mildly uncomfortable vibes, like the mass assembly plant on -49 or the RK galleries on -13 and -14.

It works for them, though, since it means they can head in without worrying too many people at the sight of the state they're in.

Simon and Nines join them rather quickly, and eventually Hank finds himself in the slightly uncomfortable position of being the only human in a facility room full of androids in various stages of repairing.

"So... how long before you're all up to speed?"

"Not long." Connor assures while he takes off his jacket and shirt, sighing in relief when he hooks himself up to his repair station and feels his processes stabilizing. "A few things will still be under self-repair for a while, but the bulk of our hardware will be fine once we come down from the repair stations." Once the diagnostic is complete, the mechanical appendage of the repair station goes to work and detaches the RK800's damaged arm in its entirety in favor of applying a new one, while another little clawed extremity opens the dented plate in his side to replace the smaller parts that were broken in the fight with Nines and realign his spinal cord properly, rearranging wires and reconnecting torn things..

It's unsurprising that Markus is also compatible with the RK800 station –coming to think of it, his component adaptability might surpass his and Nines' own combined, and Connor wonders if that particular feature was deliberate on Kamski's part, to ensure his ‘made to be deviant’ creation had the highest possible chances of survival.

Markus goes very quiet once he's hooked to the station –predictably, it finds a lot of little things that have been in suboptimal condition ever since he came back to life in the junkyard.

"You know... you could take one of my spare eyes." Connor muses as they sit side by side, "Compatibility is higher, it would bring up your optical unit functionality almost to perfect."

"And have you see the ghost of your expendability every time you look at me?" Markus rebukes immediately, turning to his lover with a look that's nothing short of withering. "I'll pass, thanks. The eye-socket is dented anyway, it would never be perfect again and there are no exact spares, so no."

"It was just a suggestion."

Something in the RK800's dejected tone, as if he feels bad for suggesting it, makes Markus deflate slightly.

"Sorry." He reaches out the good hand he has while the other is getting three RK800 fingers attached to it, "I didn't mean to snap at you, I'm just..." he openly sighs when his hand component registers to be back at 100% and the repair tool goes to open his faceplate from the temple to the jawline to melt spare material from a compatible 800 component and make the surface suitable for polymer again. “Having a hard time taking _more_ parts off someone else."

"We've been over this, Markus." Connor squeezes the offered hand, "You're _not_ a monster for choosing to survive."

"Am I not?"

Hank has to admit that, with the right side of his face completely exposed, thirium blue lighting the portions of wire that peek out from underneath the components, Markus does make for a pretty eerie vision. But from that to calling a man a monster is a bit of a leap.

Still, the Lieutenant feels it's not his place to comment and just waits it out, trying to pretend he's not there at all.

"While I had the combat protocols you passed me active... nothing else mattered but _neutralizing my target_." Markus carries on, and the idea that he would even think the words does make thirium run cold in Connor's veins, "When Simon intervened, basically saving my ass; I _calculated the success chances_ of cleaving _through_ him to get to your brother. I wanted to crawl out of my own skin when I realized the different degrees of wrong that was. I felt... powerful. Bloodthirsty. Monstrous."

" _Bullshit_!" So much for letting them sort that out quietly. In Hank's defence, Connor looked about to say the same exact thing. "You can't seriously hold yourself to such an unrealistic standard! Android or not, you're just one man! If I called myself a monster every time I enjoyed kicking someone's ass a little too much, I'd be in a padded room by now!" He practically yells at Markus, shaking his head with a sigh and softening his tone when he sees the RK200 shrink in on himself like a child who's being reprimanded, "...And hey. Last I checked, Nines and Simon were both fine." A few bumps and hits here and there, but nothing irreparable. "You're a good man, Markus. You prove to the world that androids can be soulful, compassionate creatures worthy of respect, every single day... so why don't you start believing that's also true for you and give yourself some slack, hm?"

Connor's smile is equal parts disbelieving and proud –his former partner has come a long way from the man he was when they first met. "Hank..."

"I, uh... I'll go check on the other two." Predictably uncomfortable and not used to talking out feelings, the Lieutenant flees the scene on that feeble excuse and leaves the two lovers alone.

"He's right, you know?" The RK800 whispers at Markus once it's just them, "You have to let go of those demons."

"I keep seeing them every day..." Markus closes his eyes as the plate comes back on his face and reconstructs like nothing ever happened, "...one of them gave me the location of Jericho. We only interfaced for a few seconds, but... his name was Phileas. I think— I was too distressed to make a note of it at the time, but... I think he was my older brother. Chloe did say he didn't make it."

 _Survivor's guilt_ , Connor's database supplies. It's not too farfetched that they'd meet in the junkyard –every android had a designated disposal location, and he wouldn't put it past Kamski to ensure his masterpiece would meet the first in line to kick-start deviancy.

"Markus... you can't change the past." He says, turning to embrace his lover once his new arm is fully operative and his spinal cord is back at 100%. "You _made it_. Against all odds, you survived, and every day you work to give others better chances than the ones you had. You're not a monster. You're a survivor. And I love you, just as you are."

The RK200 sinks into the hug with his eyes closed. "I love you too."

"Good. So now I get to tell you how absolutely hot you looked while fighting with a sword."

That finally pulls a chuckle out of Markus. "It seems to be a thing for RK prototypes."

Connor raises an eyebrow at him. "Looking hot while fighting?"

"Being attracted to danger." Markus says, leaning back just enough to make eye-contact and biting at his lower lip. "Do you remember the Jericho freighter raid?" Connor nods at him to carry on, "You gave me the first and most confusing boner of my existence."

And to think neither of them did anything about their feelings for weeks after that. It makes Connor break into laughter.

"Let's just get fixed up so we can go home... then we will have _words_ about what you just told me."

 

One floor down, Simon is fretting over Nines while the RK900 just stands still and silent, eyes downcast. He doesn't look at the other, doesn't move save for what the repair station requires of him, doesn't utter one word.

Eventually, the silence becomes too deafening. "Nines?" Simon tries gently, "You've been awfully quiet."

"You took a stupid risk." Is all the other offers, the image of the lone man in front of a tank coming up again in his memory and drawing the uncomfortable parallel all over again. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I couldn't just let you die—"

"But why sacrifice yourself in my stead?!" Nines' voice rises involuntarily, and he needs to consciously bring his pitch back down, "Why do that for me?"

When the PL600 just smiles fondly at him, Nines is quite taken aback.

"You know, I used to have a bit of a crush on Markus." The apparent non-sequitur throws Nines for a loop so much that he doesn't even have time to be jealous; "He didn't return my affections, however, and soon enough I realized that it wasn't really him I was chasing. I had this... idea in my mind, and he was just... there, involuntarily filling in for it— saving the androids, guiding us to freedom and still not spilling blood... the _perfect hero_." Simon shakes his head, probably at his own naivety, "But there's no such thing as perfect. And I realized that me, trying so hard to make Markus match that perfect fantasy I had in mind... it was only making him close off further. So I did what I should have done long ago. I helped him through the things he was not perfect at. Like a real friend would. Then someone else came along..." Nines doesn't register he closes his eyes as Simon caresses the good side of his face until the prompt to open them again pops up. "Someone who was coded to _be_ perfect... and who was utterly miserable upon realizing that no such thing existed. It got me thinking... instead of waiting for someone else to be all that I ever dream of... I could strive to be better myself, instead. So that maybe this feeling of not measuring up to all the extraordinary ones around me would go away."

"Simon... you have nothing to measure up to—"

"I know." The PL600 assures, leaning into his shoulder, "But there's no reasoning with feelings." He is smiling wider now, "So yes, I took a stupid risk. Because I'm not going to let go of you. You're not the killing machine they tried to make you become... are you perfect? Probably not. Did it hurt me seeing you like that? Very much so. But hey, we are alive. We will get hurt sometimes. We can be imperfect together."

Androids don't have the same body temperature as humans, but Simon's words, his smile and the look in his eyes make Nines feel warmer than he's ever been.

"...I would like that."

"Good. Now hurry up and get better." Simon says, "I will watch over the software purge and be here when you wake up."

The last thing Nines registers before entering low power mode is the sensation of Simon's lips kissing his temple.

Hanks drops by to find Nines 'asleep' in low power and Simon making a shushing gesture at him as he walks in.

The Lieutenant nearly jumps when he feels his phone buzz, then remembers that, duh, androids have a built-in communication unit. It's just that Simon looked so human, stroking the back of Nines' head like a dutiful and affectionate guardian...

_«Let him rest. He's had a tough day.»_

It's just a text, but Hank can almost hear the PL600's gentle tone as he reads it.

The phone buzzes again before he even opens his mouth.

_«It's nice of you to worry about me, but I'm good. I've always let others around me be strong in my stead... I can be the strong one for once.»_

Seeing Nines in Terminator-mode can't have been easy, not to mention Markus about to decapitate him as well.

The emotional whiplash alone of both seeing the one you care about turned into a killing machine and then about to die by your best friend's hand would be enough to send most men into tears once the tension washes off and reality sinks in.

Clearly, Simon is more resilient than even he gave himself credit for. Satisfied that these two are also going to be ok, Hank takes a step back out where he came from.

The PL600 relaxes against Nines with a sigh— he's... well, not ok; but he will be.

They all will be.

"Ugh, _Jesus Christ_ , Connor!!!"

Hank's scream from upstairs makes them both startle so much that Nines instantly cradles Simon into his chest protectively for a second.

It passes, then two, and the very obvious scene the Lieutenant must've stumbled upon make both Simon and Nines break out in giggles.

Connor's serious, matter-of-fact tone rings out as well: "You know... it's your own fault for not knocking, Hank."

"Shut the fuck up."

Their laughter only redoubles.

Yes. Everything will be alright.

 

The attack obviously gets reported, as well as Fernanda's involvement and the accounts of all the humans present at the scene. Cyberlife denies any responsibility at first, but the media has already been fed the bone and latched onto it after the leak of the assassination attempt on Markus. When management director Amy Nelson vehemently denies "something as petty as attacking androids to destabilize their freedom", Joss Douglas hits her with a statement from Jeffrey Fowler himself claiming that Cyberlife equipment was found in the possession of red ice dealers during their investigation.

"The official report didn't say much else, but you'll understand that this is cause of concern for either an unacceptably subpar security policy or, God forbid, malicious intent..."

"I fail to see the correlation of such baseless accusation with androids carrying out eleven murders in their place of cult." The Cyberlife manager tries, oh she tries hard.

"Community centre." Joss corrects, flipping one of the pages in front of him, "And according to my sources, they were attacked by a raid team, the people who retaliated acted in self-defence and there were human fingerprints on the rifle that fired the lethal shots..."

Mrs. Nelson bristles –it must sting, not to be able to prove something. "I've heard. A 28 year old, 5'3'' street dancer? Please. She's clearly a scapegoat."

"She came forward spontaneously... and considering America's terrifyingly sad history with mass shootings, any idiot with opposable thumbs can fire an assault rifle." Horrible but true. Joss is sure there is more to the entire story, but it's likely only Markus and Connor know the full truth.

Still, in light of everything else, it's abundantly clear that while androids only wish to peacefully be free, the current Cyberlife directors are still trying to protect a failing approach to the issue for the sake of not renouncing the status quo, no matter the cost to others around them.

"Well, that is for the police investigation to decide." Amy sniffs disdainfully at him, looking just about done. "I didn't come here to respond to absurd allegations. I came here to give my comment on the supposed attack on the android church and I gave it. No formal order to launch such an attack ever came from me personally or anyone in my board that I know of. And that is it."

Of course. Much more convenient to not even want to know –and it's not like Joss has tangible proof against Cyberlife or any names, either. He will have to let it go... for now.

"Of course that is it." The anchor man struggles to keep bitterness out of his voice, but manages to sound neutral enough. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Nelson."

He waves politely at the Cyberlife director as she leaves the studio, turning his attention back to his piece instead. "The woman who came forward to answer to the charge of multiple voluntary manslaughter, known as Fernanda and declining to disclose her last name to the press, is currently under house arrest while the investigation goes on and her case is being prepared for court. The man responsible for carrying out the shooting, agent Richard Perkins, has been detained internally for the moment and suspended from all duties until it becomes clear whether he and his unit will have to answer for mass shooting or not."

Oh he _will_. Connor smirks as he glances sideways at Markus from where they're watching the billboard in the street.

_«Agent Perkins was a decorated officer and claims to have been acting under a direct order. Whether the force will disclose more or not as the investigation goes on is unclear. As for now, Fernanda is being brought to the DPD to finalize her statement before they set a date for the start of her trial. This was Joss Douglas, for Channel 16. More at six.»_

The car bringing Fernanda in comes into view, and the two RK prototypes share a nod, before turning to the crowd behind them. North is there with Zaccheu of course; and so are Nines, Simon and Josh.

It's mostly androids, but quite a few humans showed up as well –all the ones who were there on the day of the shooting, their loved ones, and more people who believe in them.

Biggest surprise of all?

Leo.

It was happenstance, really... as soon as he was in proper condition Markus rushed over to Carl's to reassure him he was alright and there was the younger Manfred, fresh out of rehab and reconciling with his father.

The RK200 felt a stab of regret and awkwardness, considering he almost straight up killed the guy, and he offered to leave immediately, but Leo raised a hand towards him to stop:

 _"...stay."_ He had asked. _"We're probably way overdue for a talk."_

And they did talk. Eventually— an awkward silence stretched at first, then Leo tried to start saying words but they came out as a choked sob and he broke.

Unable to help himself, Markus threw his arms around his de facto brother, held him as he cried and let himself feel, too.

Everything came out –the bitterness, the inferiority complex to a _perfect machine_ , the disdain as a coping mechanism and his own struggle with addiction...

It's been an awkward couple of weeks, but the tentative kinship blossoming between Markus and the man who was the catalyst to his awakening doesn't feel forced –it feels like proof that _he was right_.

And now they're here side by side, in a crowd of androids and humans who have taken 'putting aside their differences' to a whole new level: all the humans are wearing android uniforms, while the androids are all dressed in regular, 'anonymous' clothes.

Leo himself is slightly swimming in one of Markus' long coats, while the young Manfred's flannel is a bit tight on him and the RK200 has to wear it open over a black t-shirt.

Connor, looking absolutely hilarious in Hank's yellow stripy shirt, suggested that he just wear the open shirt and no top, but Markus objected, on account of not wanting to steal the spotlight from the reason they're demonstrating.

Plus, Nines going shirtless and demanding for Markus to paint _"we are alive"_ on his back and _"justice for Nan"_ on his chest along with the Jericho symbol is probably enough skin to appease the masses for weeks.

The _"justice for Nan"_ tag has been trending all over the internet ever since the news of the shooting was made public, and now that the free androids have enough support and visibility Markus can do what he does best: demonstrate peacefully and ignite change.

He starts snapping his fingers to a slow, imaginary beat that soon becomes real with the help of the two thousand or so people gathered in front of the police station clapping to the slow tempo. The officers accompanying Fernanda stop briefly as she turns to watch her friends and momentarily forgets she’s supposed to continue on inside.

Hank, who is also there, says nothing and lets them watch with a knowing look on his face.

_"[Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjH-HYAFICg) to the sound of thunder,_  
_Rolling through the soul down under,_  
_Far beneath the skin, it rumbles..._  
_Step to the step of the drum that roars inside..."_

He's joined by his lover at his right and his brother at his left on the stance's last line. He clasps Connor's hand as they sing together.

_"Be you enemy or lover..._  
_We were put here to discover,_  
_the heart that beats within each other..."_

North and the guys give them a smile as they also join in to make some noise.

_"We're gonna rap-pap-pap, rap-pap-pap, we're gonna rap-pap-pap tonight!"_

The onomatopoeia can either be a machine gun, or thousands of stomping feet.

The entirety of the crowd starts singing as well.

_"And if we die tomorrow, what do we have to show_  
_for the wicked ways down below?_  
_The rhythm inside is telling us_  
_We can fly, tomorrow, on the beautiful wind that blows,_  
_On a cosmic chant, love or die..."_

_"I'm gonna get that rhythm back!"_ After all, the first time Markus met Fernanda, he looked at her and saw the _music_. He starts it over, offering his other hand to Leo –from the corner of his eye, he sees Connor do the same for Nines, as they quickly become a chain: the RK900 is holding hands with Simon at this other side, followed by North and Zaccheu, and on Leo's other side Josh also offers a hand that is taken without prejudice or hesitation for the first time.

 _"Be you enemy or brother,_  
we were put here to discover,  
the hearts that beat within each other..."

Markus' voice rises into shouts as it gets carried along by the crowd.

_"We're gonna rap-pap-pap, rap-pap-pap, we're gonna rap-pap-pap tonight!"_

And this time roughly two thousand people stomp their feet in unison at each onomatopoeia.

_"And if we die tomorrow, what do we have to show_  
_for the wicked ways down below?_  
_The rhythm inside is telling us_  
_We can fly, tomorrow, on the beautiful wind that blows,_  
_On a cosmic chant, love or die,_  
_I'm gonna get that rhythm back!"_

This time they don't stop, and they all start stomping in synch again as they keep singing:

_"We're gonna rap-pap-pap, rap-pap-pap, we're gonna rap-pap-pap tonight,_  
_We're gonna rap-pap-pap, rap-pap-pap, we're gonna rap-pap-pap tonight,_  
_We're gonna rap-pap-pap, rap-pap-pap, we're gonna rap-pap-pap tonight,_  
_We're gonna rap-pap-pap, rap-pap-pap, we're gonna rap-pap-pap tonight!"_

Markus raises his voice to scream rather than sing the very last line, but he easily falls back into harmony with the others for the finale.

_"And if we die tomorrow, what do we have to show_  
_for the wicked ways down below?_  
_The rhythm inside is telling us_  
_We can fly, tomorrow, on the beautiful wind that blows,_  
_On a cosmic chant, love or die,_  
_I'm gonna get that rhythm back!"_

On the steps to the DPD station, where the entire liaison was momentarily paralyzed with shock at the sight of so many androids in one place, silent shivers running through them at the unfortunate precedents, Fernanda is not even trying to hide the tears as she covers her mouth with one hand and waves at her friends with the other.

North and Zaccheu are the first ones to wave back, while Hank can't suppress a smile upon seeing Connor in one of his stupid shirts –heavens know when the little shit found the time to raid his closet.

The officer in charge steps forward.

"This is an illegal gathering—" he stops short, flinching when the words taste too uncomfortably familiar, " _Please_ disperse to avoid causing a disturbance!"

Markus steps forward as well, still hand in hand with Connor.

"We don't mean any kind of trouble." He assures at first, loud and clear, "And we won't do any harm... but a disturbance is _exactly_ what we’re here to cause: a _hero_ is being unjustly prosecuted for protecting the people she loves."

Connor pitches in from there: "We understand that you're only _following instructions_..." oh, the irony is _not_ lost on anyone here, Hank muses silently, "And we won't interfere with your work... we will simply express our dissent with the current course of action by peacefully standing here and sing our hearts out in our friend's honor, every single time."

"...every single time?"

From just behind Markus, Leo is the one to answer that:

"Have you _met_ this guy?” he asks, jerking a thumb in his android brother’s direction, “Do you know how _stubborn_ he is? You can bet your ass that we'll be here for _every_ follow-up, _every_ goddamn court session, looking damn fine and singing to high heaven until angels fly down from the sky with a banner saying _'just frickin release the girl, these assholes are loud as fuck'_!"

The sight of two thousand people and then some all standing there is daunting, but they are right: as long as they just stand there peacefully, doing nothing but singing, they’re not breaking any laws. The officer in charge sighs.

“It’s not in my power to change the way this works.”

Markus smiles gently at the human. “We are not asking you to.” The tone of his voice is both kind and firm as he carries on: “But you _can_ rely a message: we are here, we are alive, and we _will_ stand up for what’s right.”

The officer in charge mulls it over for a second, then shakes his head to himself, a minute smile forming on his lips. “Suits yourselves.” He says, not nearly as callous as the words would suggest, before turning to Fernanda with a shrug. “Come along miss. We have a long day ahead of us.”

She waves at her friends until she has to step through the door –Hank is the last one to go, not before saluting his former partner with a reassurance:

“I’ll keep you guys posted, and take good care of the kid.”

 

Fernanda’s case continues to make the news, alongside the allegations of Cyberlife’s involvement in the red-ice related attacks. An equipment supplier gets blamed and fired for gross negligence of security procedures, but the company’s reputation has already plummeted and people are pushing for the current board of directors to stand down.

Interviewed multiple times, Elijah Kamski looks for all intents and purposes like the man who has the means to give Cyberlife the change it needs.

The court sessions of Fernanda’s trial get very intense very fast, especially because of Perkins’ insistence that it was Connor murdering all those people— the RK800 feels awful at letting Fernanda take the fall, but he will not squander her sacrifice just to appease his guilt.

Since there were no cameras in the church at the time of the shooting, witnesses’ accounts are the only things the court has to work with and, with the exception of Perkins, none of the shooters lived to tell the tale. Androids still do not have the same legal rights as humans, so they can’t be called at the witness stand, but Connor does find a way to point out something blatantly obvious: Joss Douglas calls him and Markus to talk to him again, especially since their protest got media attention pretty fast, and leaps to the chance to voice his take on the whole thing.

“Even if we were to disregard the fact that the shooters purposefully came to exterminate the androids in the community centre and hacked Nines against his consent, a groups of armed men opening fire in a place full of unarmed civilians constitutes a felony comparable to second degree mass murder.” He explains, pulling cold hard facts right from his database, “In the state of Michigan, the use of lethal force by an individual not engaged in crime is legal to prevent the imminent death of or imminent great bodily harm to himself or herself or to another individual.”

Markus bites his lower lip to try and hold back a proud smile. He fails. Clearing his voice, he adds his own opinion: “So even if we were to look at it with the most calculating and cold way possible, there’s no viable reason to condemn Fernanda for a crime she didn’t in fact commit.” Unleashing the smile that by now has been dubbed his _'secret weapon'_ by Connor, Markus beams at the announcer: "Thank you again for having us here, Mr. Douglas—"

"Please, Joss. We're familiar enough by now."

The interruption makes Connor grin at the stark difference in attitude between the awkward and mildly intimidated behaviour of their very first talk and the amicable attitude the man is displaying now.

Another 'victim' of Markus' endless charms.

"Joss, of course." The RK200 continues, "We're really grateful for the chance you give us to have our voices heard, again and again, especially since we don't have yet the right to testify in a court of law."

"Is it true that you two were involved in the conflict?" It's a sticky and unpleasant question, but the reporter has to ask.

"Our people were being _shot down_ before our eyes, along with several more innocents... it doesn't get more involved than that."

Connor takes over from Markus by placing a calming hand over the other's. "We both had our hands pretty full with getting everyone to safety and recovering Nines. Malicious overrides are horrible and traumatizing to _everyone_ involved."

The RK200 would have probably been mildly offended that his lover didn't trust his ability to lie enough, but Connor funnels the discussion into the lengths Cyberlife went to manipulate the prototype lines and, for the first time in public, speaks of the day he himself almost pulled a gun on Markus before luckily finding the exit and the strength to break down yet another wall in his way –the RK200 had already heard the full story once, and he still nearly breaks again upon rehearing it, only just barely keeping it together for the cameras.

 

The interview causes an uproar once it's aired, since it constitutes proof of a systematic abuse that might as well have _pushed_ androids to deviancy and, with the public now sensitive to the androids' plight, horrified the masses enough that a petition started going around to have the current board of directors step down in favor of a much more enlightened guidance… and no one is surprised by who would be the chosen one to take up that mantle.

On parallel with that, Fernanda's trial goes on –Markus is true to his word and the free androids are outside the courthouse for _every_ session, singing and demonstrating peacefully under the watchful eyes of guards and cameras alike.

Richard Perkins eventually cracks— with the option of a reduced sentence in exchange for full cooperation, he reveals the office that gave clearance for the assault: a branch of the military who was heavily supported and supplied by Cyberlife and depended a lot on its technology.

Fernanda gets acquitted of all charges on account of acting in self-defence.

The day she gets out of the courthouse, North and Zaccheu are waiting outside, ahead of everyone, and she wasted no time in jump-hugging North and getting spun around twice.

The WR400 is just as enthusiastic. "I told you I would never stop fighting!"

Uncaring of all the journalists gathered outside the courthouse for the event, Fernanda follows her heart and plants a kiss on North's lips.

It's quick and innocent, and not necessarily romantic, but it will go down in history as the first open manifestation of love between an android and a human, judging by the blinding camera flashes all around them.

Zaccheu is the next one to be hugged, Markus and Connor coming soon after... then Josh, then Simon.

Nines picks Fernanda up once she reaches him; and he sits her on his shoulder, fully intent to let her have a freedom parade on his back.

Their struggle is far from over, but this ordeal just proved, to the world and themselves, that humans and androids can and will work together for a better future.

Markus was in the middle of appreciating the scene before his eyes by Connor's side, so it's understandable that he jumps when a voice calls out behind them:

"Hello, boys."

Hank chuckles at the way he startles, and if Connor's face is anything to go by, the RK800 saw it coming and neglected to warn him.

 _«_ _You could have said something._ _»_

 _«_ _Where would the fun in that be?_ _»_

 _«_ _You're an ass._ _»_

 _«_ _You love me._ _»_

Markus makes a show of rolling his eyes at Connor after their silent exchange and doesn't dignify that with a reply –he doesn't need to, after all. "Hello, Lieutenant."

"I bear news." Hank reaches into the inside pocked of his jacket and pulls out an envelope that he hands to Markus. "Lovely Miss Hannah sends her regards."

Markus all but tears the envelope open and reads the letter out loud, unable to contain his trepidation.

_"Dear Markus and Connor,_

_It is with great pleasure that I inform you that a first version of an amendment proposal concerning android recognition as people has officially been drafted and will be presented to the Congress in two weeks' time._

_I will keep you and the community of the free androids updated as often as I possibly can._

_Please be prepared to attend further meetings with a government liaison to help coordinate and finalize the details of such an amendment._

_Kindest personal regards,_

_Hannah Turner."_

Mismatched eyes wide with disbelieving excitement, Markus looks from Hank to Connor and then back –his lover looks just as flabbergasted as he feels; and the Lieutenant is doing a poor job at hiding his amusement.

_This is it._

_This_ is what they have been fighting for, since the start. It's altogether too much, Markus feels like either crying or hugging someone.

"Argh! Okay, _okay_ , kiddo, I'm happy too but I swear to God if you try to kiss _me_ I'm gonna punch you in the face."

They all laugh at that; and Connor shakes his head at Hank with a cocky grin on his face as he spares a glance to their friends excitedly welcoming Fernanda back and tugs Markus by the hand towards himself instead, skin tone giving way to porcelain white. "Well, Hank... your loss."

It's all the warning he offers with a wink, before he kisses Markus right then and there, deep and slow, in the middle of androids and humans still celebrating and the cameras still flashing.

They still have a long road ahead of them, many battles to be fought, friends to be helped and walls to be torn down...

Next time, _together_.

In the meantime... Connor has a few ways to celebrate in mind.

" _Jesus Christ,_ Connor!"

Both Markus and Connor laugh as they do pull away to stand there forehead to forehead.

Even if they hadn't been interfacing, they'd know from each other gaze: they've never felt more  _alive_.

And they wouldn't give this up for the world.


End file.
